Just when all seemed to be alright
and contentment danced
the salsa in circles...
this dark hand rises above my head
and drives it down again.
Out of the deadness
of my distress,
anguish slowly crept its way out,
as a lethal black spider intertwined
a weighted, diaphanous web
around the mourning that
clinched me to the casket.
My heart was sick.
This depression was lunacy
I’m insane with grief.
Without you is like living
with a lack of heat.
The fire within me
has been extinguished.
It is a burden
staggered beneath pain.
© Nishka Ramkhelawan
***
Grade 11
***
