Drifting

A Year of Sonnets — 071/365

Photo by Casey Horner on Unsplash

Perhaps it’s not enough to hold your heart
in tired disbelief before the stars,
to give another universe its start
when you yourself are subject to the bars
that grid your chest and keep this world away
when you’d submerge in all its tiny joys
and, yet, your bones adhere to old dismay,
surrendering the mere pretense of joy
for all your devils with their gravitas,
these saintly men who contemplate your sins:
with every word they trade, your bitter loss
grows deeper still. The misery begins
to bore into your uttermost reserve,
steal it away, a grief you don’t deserve.