The widow fog is gone.

Chaos is all around.

Reality is becoming clearer each day,

Differentiating between truth and deception.

If friendships are real,

Or ever were real.

And who may be using her or just tearing her down.

Searching for authenticity,

Differentiating between what is real and what is fake.

The widow fog is gone,

Making way for a storm.

Not a dangerous, tragic storm,

But just a lot of noise.

Noise.

Projections.

Lies.

Assumptions.

Deceptions.

Phoniness.

So much of it over small stuff.

The widow is not uncaring.

It’s just hard to care about the things that don’t matter,

Especially after losing someone that meant so much.

Her world fell apart.

People may have forgotten.

She can’t make people really understand,

Especially if they don’t want to.

The widow knows that life is short.

She yearns for the authentic.

True love, true friendship,

True emotions and deep meanings.

But she knows that once this noise clears,

There will be goodness, truthfulness and happiness.

She will be focused on striving toward an authentic existence.