Grief
Too often we think he’s exposed only in jagged sobs
But he’s also in fatigue and fear
He’ll roll in unexpectedly
At the smell of basil
Or the tinkling of a wind chime
Grief
Can’t tell time
He can collapse twenty years in an instant
A sudden whiplash of reverse chronology
Grief
I know him now
He doesn’t surprise me as much
When he rears his head, I look him in the eye
I say, “Grief, you old coot. There you are.”
And he shrinks back a bit
His name scares him I think
Sometimes I indulge him awhile
Float in his pain, remember
But then I leave him behind
“It’s time to get out,” I say
I smile, and he ebbs away
I don’t wave goodbye
I know he’ll be back
But I’m not scared
He’s evidence that I have loved
That I lived well
That I cared deep
But I don’t forget his name
Grief
*for my dear friend J– love you.
~suelarkinsweems ’12
