No words to describe
The karmic punch to my soul.
I woke with ash upon my tongue,
And dreams still clinging to my hands.

They said awakening was light and stars,
But no one warned me of the graves I’d find.
Innocence buried piously beside 
Systems I once believed in.

Grief arrived in waves, not only for the dead 
But for the pieces of me that would never return.
What breaks first is the illusion,
What follows is the flood.

The carpenter’s son flipped the tables.
The mother bore the weight of worlds.
This weight came in with no name.
I carry it anyway.