In seashell crevice
I have perspired
or shivered, wound up tight
under the gristle
of my own fearful odour -
the stink of mortality’s bell
tolling and tolling
singeing reverberations. 

All around me the huddle of love
and yet still I felt a loner
time's slowest ripples inching

Today at last
my buttoned grip
slipped a little -
oh glorious expansion.
That upward thrust of ecstatic air,
lymphs clear of cancer
relief like a breeze,
choral singing

through my shoulders
freedom convulses
in surprising tears

Written in response to: Sunday Writing PromptSWP, MLMMMindlovemisery’s Menagerie

and MLMM Wordle #236: Words: ecstatic, seashell, odour, arms, motion, gristle, upward, convulse, perspire, buttons, loner, crevice

21 thoughts on “Relief

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