Diane Eastham M.Ed.

Thin pliable walls stretched to the limit,
Containing...nothing
No vapour, or ether-
Not even a thought holding it all together
There at the end of a string,
Tethered to the edge of space-
Not quite free, but somehow dislodged-
able to drift
Quite contained in its own small space.

Seared heart
Splintered prayer
Broken vows
And shattered dreams

All other thought escaped
Through rents in pain.

No shouts
No wails
No whispers
Mark this passing

Just a shuddering sigh.

Complete emptiness

Fills the space where
"What to do next?"
Is written.
Overwhelming despair
Makes me stumble

At the doorstop
labelled
Future