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It’s the huge knot in the back of the throat
That can’t be seen or measured or touched,
But it steals your breath and stops your speech,
Blocking all passage through – up or down –
Except the gasps and convulsive sobs that
Burst through it no matter how you try to stop them.
It dams the ducts that hold in tears until they
Build up into a throbbing pressure behind the eyes.
Unable to escape down, inside, the flood overflows,
But the pressure remains, and the knot grows
And with it, that choking sensation that
Forbids the passage of anything but grief.


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