When hurt takes over, I can run away
find shelter somewhere else until it’s gone.
I have no need to fight the pain and stay,
a coward in your eyes, but then I’m done.
If only words can damage so much good
then should we talk at all about our grief?
The good seems gone from our lives, so would
it not be better seeing one of us just leave?
I need the quiet, walking through the dunes
where thoughts get shape and new perspectives live,
my words find music, blackbirds sing the tunes
and when I’m home again, we do forgive.
We so are human and both had our share,
so no, I won’t be going anywhere.
I am not sure this would qualify as a sonnet, but it was more or less the natural flow I wrote this in this morning. I am gone for a few days, tomorrow I shall be going to the mainland with my husband. There is internet in the hotel though…