***
O grief, untimely, come round, come
Sit on my chest, burn in my mind, weep,
Stream in my blood, be buried in my sleep,
O violent grief for those who have gone
Or yet to go beyond the sacred hills,
And yet to rise behind the earthly veil
O hungry wolf, the wound that never heals -
Come, break my heart, and go back to hell.
Paris 04/04 /2012
Thank you, M, for giving utterance so powerfully to these realities. Whilst it is a very personal poem, it describes universal psychological and spiritual experience. And in the writing of such, I think you may find that the wolf does indeed finally lose itself where it belongs and you and your memories will be at peace. I find myself changed by this poem.
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