September 9th

“The night racks my bones, and the pain that gnaws me takes no rest.” Job 30:17

for some reason,
the platitudes and poems
never mention the sharp
teeth grief comes with—
it finds those tender spots
we thought we had hidden
and nibbles at the little
strength we try to husband.
that cottage industry
never tells one of how
our bones which ache—
from the memory of a kiss,
the fading sound of a laugh,
the feathery touch
of an imagined hand,
the whisper of that name
which makes the hollow space
even emptier,
are placed on the rack
as grief, slowly, gleefully
turns the wheel
we can’t explain it,
make peace with it,
or dress it up in those
comforting words of therapy
but only hope that God
sits with us,
in those restless hours
until, somehow—
morning comes.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman