Grief Journal: Time’s Prisoner

Prisoners of the present, slaves to linear time

Our five senses only know the now

Rushing us toward the unknowable future

Away from the past

Even the past beloved and cherished

Bereft, we’ve created our own friendly spirits

To conjure up the ghosts of Christmas past

Trapped like flies in digital amber

Our loved ones endlessly recreate moments that replace our memories

We cannot touch

Cannot speak

Cannot give the love that fills us to overflowing

And in the now

We can only show as tears

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