Sing me a requiem
For the words will be better than mine.
Disjointed, unpolished, but all I knew
Grief is funny
It’s flashes of synchronicity between heart and mind.
For seconds or minutes
A body, a person doesn’t know what to do.
Cry. Scream. Yell. Curse. Reach out?
Do we seek something present? Tangible
It’s a reaching for a comfort to fill this absence.
But nothing will fit this puzzle piece place.
I could say that a piece of me is missing…
And that’s true. And a terrible joke placed at a bad time.
But not quite adequate. Not quite.
We are mosaics,
Of things we love,
And of things we lose.
Brilliant colored pieces that get jimmied loose and are lost
And we think
I can fix this
Fill it with
Bits of poetry
A song played on repeat
Obsessively cleaning kitchen sinks and over stuffed closets
Hoping that if we don’t look at it, the open wound will go away
And that’s okay.
We cry and hold the people we love.
Tears running like rain over sharp edges
And slowly edges wear down
Under these torrential thunderstorms
Until clouds are empty and
Edges don’t make your fingers bleed every time you touch them.