Shards of Silver

I walk through the greying mists

seeing vague shapes

to the right and left of me.

But when I call out

my voice becomes a mere whisper,

slighter than the flutter,

of a Monarch’s wings.

My tears are but shards of silver

pecking away at my heart

Uncovering hidden losses

and the pain I try to hide.

One day there may be comfort.

One day I may be free.

But until that day I shall fight,

to come back from the albatross

that hangs around my neck.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

August 26/17