A strange grief

A Strange Grief

Some days and seasons have a higher ratio of sadness,

There is a melancholy in the moving. 

Growth in all that it produces, can also yield grief. 

The old systems versus the new, 

the new places with old systems, 

the absence of the old systems, 

the in-between spaces, places and speech,

It's bittersweet.

Though I do not carry worldly sorrow, 

there is still something dying.

Me!

 I'm dying and this flesh cries out.

 It's screaming in the acrid smoke of the funeral pyre,

 but like sati its happening still. 

I am not the captain but I will go down with this ship. 

- cocoaTea.poetry