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“Where does the pain go when we die? does it stay in the bed as it begins to stink— does it racket through the home like a scream— do the children inherit it like a sprawling estate— And where does it go while we live? Maybe the pain is like me, desperate to be seen in the lives of those around me. I will abandon others again and again until I can finally be free of my own abandonment.” — Sondra Charbadze
Where does the pain go when we die?
does it stay in the bed as it begins to stink—
does it racket through the home like a scream—
do the children inherit it like a sprawling estate—
And where does it go while we live?
Maybe the pain is like me, desperate to be seen in the lives of those around me. I will abandon others again and again until I can finally be free of my own abandonment.