Metaphor
I am not some lesson to be learned.
![abstract watercolor illustration of a silhouette of a large oak tree with a sunrise poking through the branches](/content/images/size/w2000/2023/10/annabyang-metaphor.jpg)
I am not some lesson to be learned.
Some hideous example of
"what to do, what not to do."
My writing is not a compendium on grief.
Forwards, backwards, inside out,
incomplete.
I leave holes, gaps, questions unanswered.
I am not a litany of cliches.
Each trigger cuts me sideways.
Each reminder brings to the forefront
any muted emotions.
No metaphor can capture.
It is a mere solitary experience.
Mine.