Whither my guilt Lord?

May it affect me in ways unknown?

Do I question myself in light of that guilt?

Do I express this unknowingly?

I’m sorry to those I hurt wrongly. 

Who knows all their demons. 

God only knows our unknown motivations. 

Whither my anxiety?

Is it strangely driven here?

What do I release to you?

What do I cling to wrongly?

Sir,

Yes, you, talking to your daughter between dance classes. 

Do you see how big you are in her eyes?

What if she couldn’t see you?

Do you notice her hanging on your words?

Do you notice her side of the conversation?

What if she couldn’t speak to you?

Do you know the impact of your attention on her?

What if she couldn’t dance?

What if she couldn’t respond?

From the little I’ve seen, your love wouldn’t change. 

What else goes with the unbearable sadness of losing a child?

An overwhelming fear. 

A fear of “What will I do?”

Where will I go?

How will I live?

A fear that amplifies the sorrow. 

The constant fear goes away faster than the feeling of loss. 

But it lurks forever. 

Waiting to strike. 

Making you look around in a panic. 

Making the sadness come back in a wave. 

A wave you never saw coming. 

A wave that washes you back to the event in a current you can’t fight. 

A current you just ride and try not to drown. 

As the metaphor of a current implies you get soaked, so are you soaked with fear for a time. 

Battling to return to normalcy.