Grief Poetry

I have been a little off today. Not looking in my side mirror enough, burning the toast–I wanted several times today to nap. Just nap. Today was a beautiful day and I could see myself caved up under a quilt.

The old dude I did not see in his shiny jeep would have preferred that.

This time I know what is wrong. It is more than my usual December malaise. It is more than my customary invisible arrow lodged in my sternum.

No. This was the weight of grief. The unavoidable heaviness that accompanies grief–knowing that ordinary families like mine are facing hell for the long haul, knowing we are not safe.

I do hold my children tight and I am constantly aware of their grace in my life.

It hurts to know the terrible thing we all face in death. The sign of a torn universe, waiting for consolation.

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