I confess. I did not write a poem yesterday. I just couldn't. I spent the weekend with my head throbbing, my stomach aching and sleep controlling me. Literally. Somehow, I was able to muster up enough energy to put together some words that vaguely rhymed on Saturday for Day 88. Day 89 would only have been more of the same. That's if I would have been able to focus long enough to actually put pen to paper, or finger pads to key pads.
That all being said. I'm sorry. This was certainly not a choice I made lightly yesterday. I'm not even completely sure it was a choice at all. I didn't want to let anyone down, including myself. But, today is another day. My head is no longer throbbing, my stomach has begun accepting food, and I even went to work today. (Let's not forget the shoveling I had to do before that.)
And, that brings us to Day 90.
Absence
After the anger, fear, dread, anxiety, hunger and sadness
have gone,
all that remains is a
cavernous hole to fill.
Choose the dirt, and
it all rots from the inside out.
Choose the soil, and before too long,
flowers will blossom,
trees will emerge.
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