Atonement.

What is grief?

Is it the howling of a storm on a warm night of July?

Is it muffled shrieks of guilt resonating in a cold void chest?

Or is it a colony of bees swarming mind and soul in silent rage?

At the line where grief meets lethargy,

That’s where pain ends for pleasure to start.

Suddenly,

The beating of waves bruising my skin

bares my soul, atoning for sin

Red mixes with violet and blue

But I wear my bruises with pride

for I have withstood the storm.

Suddenly,

The deafening shrieks of guilt ring in my ears

Thieves my hearing, yet renders me whole again

My once hollow chest is no longer void

For I can’t hear the faint echoes of my beating heart.

Suddenly,

The swarming of bees fade into aught

my mortal flesh bleeds yet I am alive

For as I gasp for air, flailing with pain

my soul is joyfully prancing in the wake of crescent dawn.

What is atonement?

Is it withstanding the storm?

Silencing the void?

Or choosing to live?

I do not know

For I grieve the loss of something that hasn’t died

Isn’t dying, and won’t die.