You’re gone, and I choose not to label you
as my old healthy body.
I speak of you as a person
I’ve lost, and that I’m looking for.
Expensive and damaging “cures”
are storm-tossed seas,
and granite mountains I travel through
finding no healing flowers,
or drinkable water that would make you reappear.
My quest for you breaks me
past where I started.
I wonder if you exist in some unmarked wilderness,
of unexplored acres of trees, farther away
than my hollowed form has strength to reach.
Anger at your abandonment propels my relentless march,
and I drain more money,
read more studies, and more books.
Heaven might be the only place I’ll find you,
but in this life I’m never resigned.
I continue on searching until I am whole.

Autumn Williams (she/her) is the author of two poetry books: her chapbook Waves, and her number one bestselling collection Clouds on the Ground. Her poems have been featured in the Roots and Ruins anthology (Arcana Poetry Press), The Poetry Lighthouse, Gut Punch Literary Journal, Poetic Reveries Magazine, Nettle Literary, and others. She also earned a finalist spot in The Wishing Shelf Book Awards. Her work is influenced by the chronic illness she has, Myalgic Encephalomyelitis, but is written to be universal. Williams lives in Texas with her husband and their children.

Website: www.autumnwilliams.com
Instagram: @autumnwilliamspoetry