No Respite In Isolation Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Tender melodies causing tears to fall like dew drops
onto the morning grass.

Watching them with saddened eyes, wondering how in the
world I will ever learn to conquer grief held within
these photographic memories.

How can I exist, feeling as cold as ice when losing
those I love, holding my existence in pockets of in-
spiration, taking it out only to be written in poems.

This silent being residing in the pillows of an after-
life, death having taken over all aspects of my life,
leaving no understanding filtering through the years.

There's no respite found in isolation, but neither is
it found in others, living a life in an interior domain,
allowing inner spirituality to take life within divinity.

Keeping me away from edges of death's everlasting silence
at least for now.