HANGING ON

By Louise Boddy

Sometimes I wonder

is this purgatory?

A holding place where pain becomes the lesson,

where we’re stripped bare before we’re called onward.

A testing ground for hearts already shattered.

Throw another grenade.

See how she stands.

"You’re so strong," they say. "So resilient."

But strength is not a choice.

I’m not thriving.

I’m not healing.

I’m just surviving.

I cling to the edge, but even the edge is crumbling, dust beneath my fingers, slipping away.

I am exhausted, bone-deep weary, dragging this grief through each hollow day.

Sleep evades me, it’s just out of reach, a cruel taunt in the night.

And yet still I wake.

I walk. I breathe. I eat.

I exist.

But I wish I didn’t have to.

Not like this.

I can’t undo it.

I can’t unknow the depth of what I’ve lost.

I can’t return to the life where the worst hadn’t yet arrived.

I can’t save you.

#darkpoetsclub