Skip links

Grief, a poem

have you met her?

she descends slowly
or maybe all at once

she’s a river
lungs filling in flood

she cracks you open
piercing hidden tender spots

her fists pound you
each mark a purple bruise.

muscles stiff
you forget how to dance

blue music
drags you under

you beg to be touched
still, you’re left hungry.

this white rose?
yellowed
withering on the vine

that ripe plum?
burst open
falling to the ground

the stew you lovingly put to simmer?
watery, flavorless

the fire extinguished too soon
you empty, grey.

that magical city
it’s labyrinth beckoning
instead she locks you in a room, alone

the regal evergreen
split open, collapsed
(reminding you trees are impermanent too).

have you questioned life’s goodness?

boys in hoodies, hunted down
girls caged, muzzled

men slaughtered in broad daylight
women crying out

brutality on a televised loop.

have you believed you could not go on?
doubting courage still lives in your bones

have you fallen to your knees?
forehead resting on a scratchy wool rug

deep blue and crimson patterns
soaked by your prayers.

her weight smothers you
each move like plodding through mud

shoulders heavy
the burden is (nearly) too much

you journey to the Ocean for counsel
only to find her weeping too

held by her expanse
you awaken to the Suffering Mother

saltwater refuge
yet you cannot escape grief’s embrace.

her visits, an eternity
hiding you away for days

a hermit
you sleep through a season of full moons and snow storms

vivid dreams
owls, bears, whales

landscapes with deep caverns and winding rivers
unearthing buried treasures

you awaken from your slumber

a stranger’s smile
a kiss on the forehead
children’s laughter shaking the room.

Leave a comment