Scars

One year. My heart to yours.

Scars

Grieving is an art

like surgery or verse,

essentially the art of healing

loss or losses unaccounted for.

Losses cut the soul

in twos and threes,

in wide green gash

like the wound of

a tree cut down

suddenly.

So much more time

than expected

so slowly heals

the severed pieces

of the self shock-shattered

by guilt and rage

and the simple loneliness

of something missing,

the hug, the casual telephone talk,

the good occasional fight lost forever

to the harsh nonphysical world of death.

Grief lived faithfully heals itself

in time not fully.

Where once an open wound burned

unbearably

now a thin, transparent scar.

Still I know that till

the hour of my own death

the scar glows

and now and then bad weather

will come and waken the same old ache.

A scar is a now and then throb

that dies only with one’s own death.

- Alla Renee Bozarth

In love and your memory forever - Tom, my soul mate, my husband, the love of my life.