A Kind of Grief

I am washing dishes in the sink and the water bowl overflows

Staring at the pretty Winter scene

Pretty awful.

It’s been six years since she didn’t die

and many in between

Awkward feelings remain.

“Getting Better All The Time”

used to mean just that

When I was young I believed it.

“Help” was a song I hummed but never knew the words to

Now I cannot help myself, nor those around me.

She?

She still exists but in a fragile shell.

Days are good,

When old interests are replayed.

Repetition required.

“Communication Breakdown”

is what it is.

There are two others just beginning their journey

Occasional help required,

Difficult and sometimes extreme in one case.

She remains in bed or settee and book-bound

Time Travelling,

Me?

Exactly.

What am I?

The time travellers husband?

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5 thoughts on “A Kind of Grief

  1. I shared this poem with my students yesterday (hope you don’t mind)–they were trying to write a poem by writing out sentences and literally saying what they wanted to say. More than a few tears were shed upon reading this, and they each “took a line” and wrote some beautiful, real poems inspired by this one. It is truly one of the most haunting, memorable things I have read of late.

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