(A Meditation in Grief)

See those flowers, there above my feet
I’m so glad you’re here with me
The grass has never been this green
Any other time I’ve been here,
The sky so lush, such fruit on the trees
Watch, there they fall, gentle as leaves
There’s no pain here, don’t you see?
No broken hearts, no tragedies
It’s here, only here, we can be free.

I see you thinking it – STOP, don’t you dare!
It doesn’t belong inside this, my sacred place
Do you see the birds, weightless down there?
We can be them, aloft, adrift, we don’t have to care
You and I, together, lost but found, a pair
Of humans who needed a place to be safe
From the – NO DON’T – it’s our escape
It’s our space, my space, nothing to repair
Calm, peace-filled, unaware
Of any such desperate prayer.

Laughter, hear? Just as I said
My weeping here is joy instead
The light of it, the color, the painted thread
Pulls life and laugh through my head
And I know, here I know, that death is dead
Because do you see all around there are flowers in their beds?
They would not grow so bright if they bled;
Far over those hills, they grow without end.

Maybe I’ll stay here, in this sanctuary forever.
Stay with me?

About This Poem

I wrote this in the aftermath of two deaths: my grandma, who was my last living grandparent, and my first dog, my shadow, Oscar. The two of them lost their battles with cancer within a few days of each other.

In the mourning process, I found myself at times disconnected from it, emotionless, and I felt guilty for that. I should be sad; I should be crying. Shouldn't I? But this disconnection from myself, too, was grief. The painted reality was grief. Yet there was hope – I yearned to share this reality with the people I loved. I wanted them by my side, in whatever reality I inhabited.