The Day After

The Day After

The rubble smolders

We may have to wait

Before we can start cleaning up

There is healing after surgery

Stop. Heal

I keep thinking 

It’s just a matter of time

Every year that passes

I better pick up more pills

Pick up a pen

I have a Frankenstein monster heart

Pieces of many, stitched together by 

A surgeon with limited resources 

The day after. A voice, a rose, a cat, anything for relief. There’s fear after the loss. Feel like a wasteland, it’s okay. Natural. Is it sand? Is it snow? The ocean? Darkness? In loss, we seem to see only the best and worse parts of ourselves; the white and black. There is no gray. We hold fast to the center ball of the pendulum swinging between the two sides every minute. At least we can keep still. Stillness in the sudden silence.

Loss will sterilize the air and leave a mess. Let the mess reflect you. The air will keep you breathing.

Loss is a long walk. You won’t know you were transforming until you are transformed. But that’s a long walk away. For now, remain under a tree, on a horse, in bed.

There is a ripple effect to loss. I’ve experienced one that wasn’t mine, but I surfed a wake. And out and out it goes. You’re never alone. When the tide comes back through the undertow it returns love, sand, nutrients, darkness, clarity, sharp shells, and the unknown.

You’re molecules hold you together in an erratic world. They clash, then stabilize, clash, stabilize, but hold you in one piece, more or less. One step at a time, tomorrow. Hold on, the day after.

©2017, Valerie Marie Leslie



Author: valeriemarieleslie

Poet. Thoughts. Musician.

2 thoughts on “The Day After”

  1. A rush of shock and sadness
    Then helplessness
    Want to reach out to people but don’t know what to say
    How to say it
    Lost promise, potential
    Hope for an end to suffering
    For all

    RIP Graeme Kaine Herrick
    June 9, 1978 – March 20, 2017

    I wrote this early in the morning on March 21.

    Liked by 1 person

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