She
……………….(curious,
impervious to reason)
………………….allowed her caprice
to release doubt, rain
………black clouds down
……………………………….on slightly scattered
mind. There, she would find
……..an awful hole
………………………..buried deep, where
stairs no longer reach.
We’ve bid her
…..to declare war, ask more
……………………….of this fragile place,
but she continues
…………………….to grit her teeth and grieve
……………………………..with grace.
.
Written for Quickly, Day 16.
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
“where stairs no longer reach”
I’m thinking that this has to do with someone focusing on an ambiguous past situation — of which perhaps the other party is dead and so there is no corroborating anything — and so doubt lingers, and then becomes the focus. And it just exacerbates the grieving process.
I love “We’ve bid her
…..to declare war, ask more
……………………….of this fragile place,”
I thought anger was much more easily accessible these days then it was when I was sweet 16, if I ever was sweet or 16. She has grace. I believe this totally..