interrupted

by erin 

I walk around with an unspoken... 
grief? 
most of the time, unknown to me. 
Until, I walk into the kitchen to... 
what?
to do something...to get something... 
interrupted-
I stumble.
Where am I?
Why did I come in here?
For a mug? For tea?
No.
Why, then, did I walk into this room?
Full of purpose and knowing. 
Now I am here and words fail me.
interrupted-
and empty handed I stand still
waiting for it to dawn, 
reaching out for epiphany
and it is in this moment that the grief rolls in...
yes it does.
Tears seek my eyes, throat tightens its grip,
What is this sadness?
Where does it live?
In me?
I do not even remember what I lost
to cause such mourning,
which comes so willingly...
And then-
I remember!
That pesky grief crawls back
into its lonely room
to be born another day 
when I become
interrupted-
and stuck in time again.
interrupted-
when I am most vulnerable.
interrupted-
grief bears witness 
to my being stuck
in this imperfect state.

God, spare this interruption
and keep me moving on and on.
No need to remind me 
of my place in this paper thin world.