Bleeds

I miss my children ...

In all reality,

I’ve been missing them

For years now.

I became used to it.

Their prolonged absences

The space between glorious reuniting

Allowing my grief the respect it deserved

Carving out the loss

Time between.

Honoring what used to be

Our family

Until it had a place

The space between what was and what will be

A new normal

Coexisting with loss

The space between.

But right now?

Right now I am keenly aware

Their absence

Physical distance seems a plight.

A continent apart

Strikes hard

With the notion

The space between

Bridges the gap

An emotional, continental divide

Distance shifts

It’s tectonic plates

Stirring up ghosts

Picking past

Old wounds

Expertly bleeding my soul

Picturing their faces

When I left.

Again.

Only this time

This time, my children understood

The logic

And circumstance

Necessity over need

And somehow this hurts more

Their loss of innocence ...

The space between time,

Bleeds.

~N.E. Philomèle~ ©️2020