By Benjamin Grossman and Cassa Bassa

I lost the grip of my writing pen
                                                the ink frozen in-between the flow 
                                                                                                      of words and broken nib.

As if making every stroke 
                                        on water 
                                                       letters now convert to vapor
vanishing before forming any solid state.


I burn lavender incense up to the heavens
offering fragments         of laden thoughts 
denial               sadness            resentment 
                                                                   cast 
                                                                  down 
                                                                   like 
                                                            Autumn rain.

I wish to be a fixed matter
an existence tightly packed together

but    my    particles    keep     spreading 
                                                                 in
                       different 
directions
                deaf
                  to
                 all
               prayers.


I found no escape on the verge of my final break.


Perhaps if I hibernate long enough
Spring will come with the promising sun
I WILL GROW FROM THIS INEXCUSABLE PAIN.

__________________________________________________________
*Please make sure to view the poem again and additional content at Cassa's blog: https://flickerofthoughts.com/
It's always a pleasure to write with a poet as knowledgeable and talented as her, and I really enjoy this poem for what it stands for beyond the words.