By: Taylor Pircey

Grief, what have you done?

Murdering me on a cross of sorrows I cannot bear

You pierce me, haunt me, stalk me

Tie me up & pin me down,

Struggling under your dreaded weight

I cannot breathe

My head is pounding

You threaten to crush my heart

Immobilizing me in your grip of terror

Enough! Please stop!

I can’t take it anymore!

But grief is deaf & presses on

Immune to all cries for mercy

An oppressor I cannot shake & cannot bargain with

A raging evil, hell-bent on my destruction

Clawing at my heart with maniacal passion

He loves my pain

It sustains him, cruel beast

Greedy for my tears, fears, rage & fury…

They feed him, relieve him

I grab him by the throat & stare into his eyes

You shall not have me! This too shall pass!

Alas, I am a fool

He laughs as he spins another web of beautiful lies,

Wrapping me in his crystal den of tortures

Poking, prodding, tearing, despairing

All fight drained; all strength sucked dry

Apathy sinking in to numb it all

To live & yet not be alive

That is the horror

A vegetative state beaten into me,

Submission to the abuse

The abuse?

That I lost you, that you left me, that you’re gone

One I once loved so deeply

The torture?

That my heart keeps beating when it feels like I’m dying

Living without reason to breathe

The brutality of forced existence

Crush my body & I will heal

Crush my spirit & all is lost

I plead with my heart to stop beating,

To let me go

Grief presses in

Tightening the noose

I cannot breathe & do not want to

My feet feel like lead

My head a hornet’s nest

My heart a barren wasteland

Blood pounding painfully through dry veins,

Forcing life throughout my broken body

Under protest, my soul cries out

Stop keeping me alive!

At long last, I surrender to Grief,

Let him overtake me, possess me

Struggling ceases – all is quiet

Wearily, I gaze into his eyes

Surprised to see myself in his eyes

He, in much greater pain than I

He tells me he was pierced

Crushed so I wouldn’t have to be

That all this time I’ve been running from him

He’s continued to pursue me

I saw him as grief & pushed him away

When all he wanted to do was take my shame away

Coming to grips with the source of my pain

Was the only way to heal from his game

Grief is rude.

He marches undaunted about our broken hearts

Hell-bent on tarnishing all we thought was secure & healed within us

He dirties his hands rummaging through boxes we packed up long ago

He brings out things long hidden, twice forgotten

Airs them out to be relived, re-wired

Forcing closure upon us with unceremonious flair

If it wasn’t for him, we might all still live in our fears □

About the Writer

Taylor Pircey currently resides in Thousand Oaks, California where she works as a film photographer and mortgage processor. Taylor loves cooking, reading, road trips, hiking, and all things community-oriented.

Article Credits

Instagram: Taylor Pircey

Photography Business: Seeking Sun