There's something about a vulgar, engrossing pain that shatters and substitutes everything you’ve ever counted as hurt.
There’s that irresponsible, overflowing river of emotions that makes you feel like morning will bring no joy or retreat.
Something elusive about even an ounce of joy in the midst of a graduated level of disbelief and agony.
Something about mourning that confirms it a dreaded and condemning authority.
Something about the wisest of words that removes encouragement when you feel powerless.
Something about not having anyone wipe your tears away to rub in the fact that you are damaged.
Something about this kind of selfish pain that feels close to death even when a hug consoles you.
Yet, somehow, everything will conclude as God intends.
