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Photo by charlesdeluvio on Unsplash
For my favorite girl, who would've turned 14 this weekend.
On Grief
On Grief
It was hot the day you died
That just doesn’t seem right
Shouldn’t the world
Drip with icicles
On the day the sun burns away?
I’ve met with grief before
She’s shown up on my doorstep
With downcast eyes
And regretful words
But this time, she did not come softly
She kicked in my door
Barreled through my ribs
Like a freight train loosed from its rails
I have never known this version of her
This unnatural, greedy specter
Who took what was not hers
There is no beauty in this melancholy
No joy in culmination
There are only loose threads
Never able to finish their stunning tapestry
Snipped off by jealous scissors
And a fate too cowardly to wait her turn
Would the rage in me subside
To hear justification?
I don’t think so
When it burns as hot as that August morning
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