This is How I Understand Grief, Solitude

This is how I understand Grief:

When the crisp and hollow wailing of our neighbor

In front of her dead son

Lost its consonants and the trail of

Vowels seems to me the last echo

In her womb.

This is how I understand Solitude:

I sit in a park bench

And no one sits beside me, save my

Shadow and an echo of vowels ringing

In my ears.

Image

[Nicolas Roerich, Song of Shambhala, 1943]

2 thoughts on “This is How I Understand Grief, Solitude

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