There are too many poems on the subject of sorrow.
Why pile one more on this dung heap of sorrow?
Once upon a time always promises wonder. We remember,
too late, the breadcrumb-less woods of sorrow.
You fall asleep nightly rehearsing a lie:
Tomorrow I’ll end it, my love affair with sorrow.
A woman is singing again. Who is she this time?
No matter. Her voice grinds the whetstone of sorrow.
What a choice we’re given: to hold on to the dead
or let them vanish to try to vanquish our sorrow.
I speak my name out loud into my shiny new iPhone.
On the screen, Siri spells it out for me: Sorrow.
Shara McCallum, “Sorrow” from Madwoman. Copyright © 2017 by Shara McCallum.
Words for the Year 
Oh what a wonderful ghazal!
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The iPhone line at the end threw me – made it seem very real and visceral …
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Me too…. as I sit here typing this reply on my shiny new red iPhone.
(That won’t upload screenshots to RunKeeper, haha!)
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😂😘
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Dear Christy/Christina,
Hi, got way behind on emails; just finding this one of nearly a month ago. Yikes. I’ve been missing your posts and have thought perhaps you announce a hiatus and I didn’t catch it. Anyway, hoping all is A-OK with you. You’re quite a presence here online! Best Wishes from Jean in S.J., CA! ❤
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Hi jean, yep I was on an unplanned unannounced hiatus, but I’m gearing up for a new year return. Hope all is well with you! Best wishes from Texas!
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