Tamara Willems

a freezing of days…

Again as we turn to grieving  
in the stories of  
of which, I know little of how 
except to say it is good, for a time 
to sit quietly with this 
in our own stunned silence and devastation  
good also, to 
to cry, to say and to feel stories 
large and small  
of those we love, of those 
we shall not ever really 
of those that take their own little pieces of us 
when they go 
yet in exchange it seems, 
for the bits that we so desperately 
hold on to 
the small wedges we feverishly hammer into place 
in our own hearts, to fill the void 
left gaping open 
as to not let in…  the cold 

indeed, these small fragments feel 
as to what it is, we wish to hold 
but this is love 
this is the love that surrounds us 
when we are in need 
that allows us to open our eyes on the morning sun 
forgetting for the briefest moment 
that we are doomed to another crush of 

this too is love when someone reaches us
in tenderness, in awkwardness 
or in  

this is how we know we will perhaps  
make it to the evening’s  
in the darkest sky 
where again we may cry out in questions 
of how and why 
and when 
might this hollowing out of one’s heart 
ever end 

this is love that allows us to breathe  
deeply or 
desperately or somehow unconsciously 
through days of 

this is the love that holds 
that hurts, and too 
this is love 
of its blessing or its 
it has in its gentle power 
just what we  
to see us through 
and in this kind of love 
to fail, to fall 
to quietly or unknowingly wander through 
this again,  
is where I’ll meet you 
with a warm glass of comfort
and arms  
large enough to hold
of you ♥

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