Poem

Days slip into days when the blazing roars of emptiness clamour over my soul,

and the dull and deadening pain of loss and grief for – what – I do not know – digs nails deeper and deeper.

Yes, there are thing to hold onto, little peeks in every day that make it a little more worthwhile,

but some how joy seems evasive, elusive, no where to be found.

Where should I go, to whom do I turn,

Home feels like the strangest place ever,

Home is nowhere,

not even in myself.

Obey, they say, then faith will come.

Obey what?

How?

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