The Shape of Sorrow

Photo by Art Institute of Chicago on Unsplash. Woman’s Head against the Shore Date: 1899 Artist: Edvard Munch Norwegian

Sorrow does not have a face

It only takes shape of whatever it holds

Becoming like water

Consuming all

and over flooding rivers

A tsunami pummeling through the soul

where it only travels deeper

Through the river of veins

To the heart of the spirits core

Exploding into an atomic bomb

expanding through memories decades old

Sorrow does not have a face

It only takes shape of whatever it holds

It has no teeth to sink into you

There are no eyes for you to look into

Sorrow does not speak

yet it whispers to all your wounds

As if it knows all of your secrets

and predispositions

Sorrow does not need words

to have a conversation

It does not need a tour through your body

It knows where all the open doors are

Traveling through quietly

then picking the locks of every closed one

door by door

frame by frame

sliver by sliver

It takes the shape of your name

bit by bit

part by part

river by river

It flows straight into your heart

Becoming a romantic that makes you suffer

Sorrow only knows how to be a sadistic lover

Sorrow does not have a face

It only takes shape of whatever it holds

The magnitude of my sorrow

cannot be captured in this poem

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© Kelly Michelle Thomas 2023. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means without the written permission of the author.