Sorrow
by Janet Muirhead Hill
(in memory of Florence Ore—a poem I wrote about a year ago as my dearest friend, mentor, and supporter was dying. She passed away on October 17, 2014)
Sorrow sits upon a shelf
high above my head.
Unwilling to see inside myself
I avoid what I most dread.
And so I find I do not feel.
My mind and body are numb.
The source of pain seems so unreal
that tears refuse to come.
To face another loss to death
is hard for me to do.
As I concentrate on my breath
I wish more life for you.
My dear friend, I love you so,
I don't want to say goodbye,
but I see that you must go
and in time, I know, I'll cry.
