Away From The Place That Aches

Away From The Place That Aches

5 May 2012

Two weeks ago today.

Thrust into a place where the only air I breathed,

Was born from a loss I had never known before.

Where the ache was everywhere.

Every second.

Every day.

Fresh.

Raw.

Paralyzing.

Where leaving that place,

Seemed an impossible, unworthy, task.

The Place That Aches found distance.

Returning,

Leaving,

Unannounced.

Six,

Then four,

Then three times a day.

Now,

I choose when to breathe the air in that place.

I sit,

And think,

And remember,

Until the memories take me there again.

And I settle into it,

Let it wrap its tendrils around my grieving heart.

Then,

I unclasp the ache,

Look for fresher air to breathe,

And move away from The Place That Aches…