Dara Wier - An Ant in the Mouth of the Furnace

Sorrow likes itself most when it’s
At its best being
A barrier
Impenetrable. An obstacle.
A veil that can’t be torn.
When beyond its deckled edges
sorrow won’t let you see.
As if you were a blue blur on paper
intended to be a child’s image of heaven.
And it takes more bearing
because more of it is always coming.
And it takes up space where space has never been.
Where there is no space.
Where no space has ever been.
And it will not move.
And brings all else to a standstill.
To no longer be in a state of grief...