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what I'm learning about grief—
Is that I rebuilt myself;
But not from me.
From strands of memory
And Time
Like cobwebbed conversation corners
Of my mind
That I would sweep away
(In any other day)
Now attached to my breathing
In and out
The gentle rhythm of this me machine.
what I'm learning about grief—
Is that it's not a place;
Save when you're there.
So when you go to look for it
It's often gone
And when you think to leave
You find you're lost.
Everyone will give you directions
And they're all wrong.
You won't give this place a name
Though you will often try.
what I'm learning about grief—
Is that everybody knows.
You might as well carry
A red hot burning coal
In your pocket
Than try to hide
Your screaming awful.
And they all will "understand" you;
Only "no". And "no" again. And no.
The softer sounds of sympathy
Reluctant to be heard.
what I'm learning about grief—
Is that I'm curious.
The smallest things go by
And now I want to know.
What makes it so?
It's likely life and still unchanged
But this heart beating tells me
Moments are a gift
That I've kept locked away.
what I'm learning about grief—
Is that it's not a target.
There is no bullseye mark
That we can score and
Pull away the arrow of our pain
It's not a spot that with persistence
Can be scrubbed away.
It's not a weed that you can pull
Or if it is it grows again anew.
The very best that we can hope to do
Is be like sculptors, carve our pain
From plain white rock and shape
To teach ourselves
And those who look what we are
Chiseled from, what we become,
That we are hard and cold
And sometimes brittle things
We chip apart and shatter
And at our best, what then remains is beauty.
May it be, but let it go.
(Originally posted June 6, 2020) To contact Ben Orbach send an email to bdiminished@hotmail.com |