Requiem

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

Or Isolate.

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

It’s okay

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

It won’t.

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.