In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er, Like coarsest clothes against the cold: But that large grief which these enfold Is given in outline and no more." Tennyson
My beloved husband, Kent, died in January 2012, 3 years after diagnosis of a brain tumour. Our son was 2 1/2 and our daughter 3 months old. He and I were far too young. I am now hurtling through the black space of life without him.
Monday, 3 June 2013
Sometimes at night
you have to hold on so tight
to stop the panic from exploding around the room,
shards of grief like glass lit up by the moon.
And there's noone to hold on to,
and there's just,
well there's just,
noone to hold you.