A pit in my stomach

A pit in my stomach

That just won’t go,

An empty feeling

Too heavy to show

A weight of uncertainty,

That life is unlivable.

Be ready, for this is it;

There are rumors no more.

When the dull ache fades away,

A little hope returns.

Mighty are those humans

Who stay while it burns.

Underlying all the sadness,

There is little I can do.

Joy becometh idle madness,

And that’s just partly true.

One day I hope to see logic

For all that’s gone wrong.

God must have answers,

Lest this just remains tragic.

And this sorrow lives on, lives on, lives on.

~ Amy, since March 30. Still finding the words.

It may not rhyme, but it’s real.

A heart full of adventure, a smile that never fades.

Author’s Note:

There are mornings when I wake up to these feelings and thoughts, heavy, lingering, and hard to name. This poem was born from those moments. It’s been three months and 25 days since Papa left us on March 30. Writing helps me make sense of the ache he left behind.