My father passed away yesterday, July 29, 2018. I finished the poem today. I never post writings that haven't been read by an editor or member of my critique group, Artemis Rising. But I am posting this because I don't know what else to do.
by Eileen Albrizio
In dark of night, unseen by living things,
she weaves a web with silken strands of grief
that spreads across the attic like the wings
of dragonflies: the workings of a thief
who targets mourners trying to persist
each hour without the ones they love. We're just
survivors of death's casualties, who missed
the touch of one who renders life to dust.
I am among them, laden in my gloom,
existing in a garret without light.
I feel the grief that hangs inside this room.
It clings to lashes, flesh. With all my might
I try to swipe away the deep despair
but still feel death is crawling through my hair.