Self-Applied Edicts of Apathy

I am not opposed to being loving to these kinds of things, but this one was a bit unusual to me.
It was strange and new and beautiful.

So here I sit, all cuddled, warming up with a deep-down breath.

Everything frozen like frost in the trees,
The gray hush of the dawn.

I walk in the park and write my thoughts.
I listen to the filth inside of me.

That is the current torrent about which I am troubled this morning.

Grief.

Grief for the gift,

Grief for the loss,

Grief for my freedom.

I refuse to be detoured by self-applied edicts of apathy and fed by a cynic.

You might as well know that I have one hand waving to you, one hand stretching towards you, one hand falling completely silent.
Third hand.

The trouble is, that same stillness hasn't translated fully into action on my part, just a desire to cross the gap.
Whether it be the political divide, the division of friends, or the distance between my Self and the grief.

How strange is that?

Wanting to help somebody else.

Wanting to stop somebody else.

How profoundly this simple desire can transform my whole body. My whole experience of this place.

Of this community.