death, poetry

The Emptiness of Self

Flashes behind the eyes
—at the back of the mind—
images of her sallow face,
or the haunting c r a c k
of four aspirin against glass…

They demanded adults of us
in that period
when we were still
from having saved her life
the first time—each
handling the delayed
grief of an almost loss
in our own way:
six months
of a silently spiraling mind
just trying to survive
the emptiness of Self,
having been so up-close
with death.

©2022 H. M. Smith, all rights reserved.

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