Grief is a time wrenching line in the sand

I draw with a blood-soaked finger

unsure of myself and weary

of my crusading

internal battles

while cohorts rage

year in and year out.

Struggles and loss are

surreptitiously conjured.

Unresolved conflicts persist.

Un-kept promises stubbornly

refuse to give way to

blessed thoughtlessness.

Unwieldy solutions burrow out

from under my safely stowed conscience

to intentionally stagnate me

more than to offer any hope.

Grief suppresses the recognition

of its own image cast in

a tarnished mirror and hastily traded

for multiple short lived

scenarios of peace.

Greif demands many immediate

small sacrifices.

First to go are my personal freedoms

abandoned for the greater good

followed by abdication of most

well established and

acceptable social standards

for the same reasons.

Deliberate oppression of joy ensues.

All this must happen so that others

may enjoy their hollow peace at my expense.

For the sake of good hygiene I will burn

the bodies of the fallen

in the town square of my reputation.

This is the nature of grief:

To ever wear a smile while

my brain is rudely dissected

by my ruthless opponents.

As my peace of mind angrily tromps away

perennial losers will bankrupt

my serenity label me a  

cowardly traitor misanthropic

heretic and build a new scaffold

in my honor.

These are the times when I

stealthily slip off.

Just before my remorseless conscience

comes with armed guards looking

to drag me away

to be re-educated

again.