How does one grieve for a living soul
Whose eyes are open
Ever shrinking from the light of knowing
In a cataract blurred reality of who of what of why
Capped Ice pursuing life pushing down life
Polar darkness pilfering all pulmonary exhalations
Can life survive down there?
In the cold, suffocating abyss that presses
O’ Cryogenic geriatric! Are you there?
Held suspended ever shriveling ever shivering never seeing
Through the swamp of failing fluids
Choking down memories like cough serum
Seeping bitter dregs strained past their taste
How can life survive being thusly alive?
Can I grieve at this while you remain un-here unheard?
I do not mean to demean such suffering.
This is my grief in stasis.
by Karen Sullivan