Not an emotion, this sorrow
is structural, comb drawn out
in my heart, white etchings
a bare start, arrested
before they could take form,
long before they could hold anything

These hopes, like queenless bees,
huddle in small patches
as the memory of why and where
disperses

But a stronger structure,
as yet unnamed, is taking form –
I wait to see what it will support,
what it may contain.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 21, 2023