Refusal to mourn

Swallowing your gut,

You quietly stand up,

Though trembling, your sore legs,

Refuse to sit on this spot.

Feeling impassive and

Slightly fidgety,

Your heart begins to hurt,

And yet despite your calm facade

You felt emotions--

Way worse than when you said 'hello',

Or when you told the air 'goodbye'

Expecting to hear it whisper back,

But the air could be

as silent as the night

Or as the scorching sun,

And only bitter cold

Or ever raging heat

Could slap you in the face--

Or maybe nothingness--

To say, there were no traces left

Of you and the wall that formed--

But that too seems folly.

And there can only be

Blight wisdom in ambiguity.