Dear Grief

Dear Grief,

Her floral sheets wave in the wind

like hoisted sails broken free from masts,

and with them wafts the smell of laundry,

the same detergent that the last hug

with Grammy smelled like,

full of warm sunlight, sweet blooming

Georgia Blues, and love –always love.

*

Sometimes, the world hoists me up there too

with the laundry, to flutter about all

tethered Icarus in sea summer air,

arms pinned with clothespins like a

butterfly–an Emperor held under the sun’s

heedy lepidopterist gaze–left out to dry,

to figure out how to wring all the doubts

and tears from my drenched mind.

*

Under the melted crayon sunset

I had put the best pieces of myself

next to all my broken things,

shut tightly in an ivory jewelry box

next to shattered albacore shells

gathered carefully by tiny hands

and crushed childhood dreams.

*

Sometimes, at night, when my heart

is weary and eyes tired, the moon grows a face

that looks eerily like my mother’s,

blurred with childhood recollection

and estrangement, and asks me,

with singsong abandon and moths erupting free,

if I am happy with myself, and I never

know how to answer.

*

See, my Grammy told me that the only

goal in life I should strive for is to be

Happy.

Full stop.

And for her the full stop was more

than just the end of the sentence,

it meant throwing away the whole damn typewriter

so you couldn't be tempted by those

who would bring you down

to alter those words.

*

Sometimes, I pull the typewriter

out of the trash, raccoon fishing for more

garbage to dine on,

And rewrite them anyways.

Sometimes, I give away my power

As freely as the sun gives warmth–unconditional

And with no expectations– and I thought you

stole all the love I had left as greedily

As the darkness steals the day.

.

But this new love is a subtle thing,

unlike the all encompassing feeling that

swallowed me whole like the great fish

did Jonah the day I met you.

This love is like slipping on a silk robe

over raw, naked skin,

like the gentle swaying of waves

on the ocean’s rest days,

Lulling sailors and fish to sleep,

And like the quiet, eternal

kiss of land and sky.

*

This love snuck up on me quietly one day,

tip toeing around all my misgivings and reluctance,

a masterful dancer ballerina-ing their way home.

This love caught my gaze from across the yard

one heatwave afternoon with drying laundry

and Grammy's Georgia Blues and I leaned down,

remembering all of our laughter and who I really am

underneath all that has happened to me,

and I finally began to love myself;

*

Love myself with all the fullness and imperfections of sea summer air,

Love myself softly and with patience like lost Grammy hugs,

Love myself fiercely as the tide does the moon,

Love myself beautifully like smashed albacore shells,

and with all the new beginnings of fresh laundry

fluttering in the wind.

Love,

someone who finally grew around you