Written by Silver

Blissful liquor fills child of woe.
Drenched in moonlight by window’s sill,
she sits as candle flickers to and fro.

Wispy breeze chills the room.
Goosebumps rise from pasty skin;
she’s not surprised when shivers bloom.

Warm presence draws near,
touches with cold hands.
Affectionate memory shimmers,
draws forth painful tears.

Soothing voice echoes in mind.
Dancing with fondness,
erupting in glee.
No longer confined,
completely free.

Tender care needs no words.
Arms outstretched, she feels so close.
But the pull of life is much preferred.

He kisses her forehead,
breathes heat into her lungs.
And silken hands lift her to bed,
her travel to death not quite here yet.

Spirit was written on behalf of Silver’s struggle with two recent losses in her close-knit family. The process of bereavement is personal to each individual, with each death taking months or years to accept. If you wish to see more of her poetry, be sure to check out Fudge and The Recurring Nightmare.