RELEASE – By Roger Singer
Strong pulses water my eyes
as I fail under collapse of trying
to control, to stand or sit.
My feet, weak, pull at my legs,
like gravity forcing the moon to fall.
The grief backed up my breaths,
choking the air within me
like cold thick soup.
I gasped to free my thoughts
from the pull away of life.
Each day until I awake, dry eyed,
free of nights demons
when I finally embrace the day
and every day thereafter.