It Isn't Easy Going On

A Sonnet

  
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Photo by alexey turenkov on Unsplash

after Krystal Sutherland’s Our Chemical Hearts

The universe absolves the grief we hold
as leaden anchors tightly to our chests.
In tiny currents, atoms, ever bold,
will grind the stones we’ve sown into our vests
and let us float away. Forgiveness comes
to lift the heavy judgment from our heads,
undeeming dooms we spoke with lips so numb;
a mal de coeur that would not see us dead
but shattered. “This is justice, don’t you know?”
The voice within insists, and we receive
the sentence handed down–and so we go,
not knowing that the little voice deceives.

A year is not forever, nor a day;
through herculean grace we’re made okay.