grief

It was one of those nights where I just want to be home but never want the drive home to end.

Where I want the moon to allure you through the clouds, always far away, always far away

Unreachable, like the end of a rainbow

Looking ike there's a place I could reach and look at the bottom of the cardboard cutout of the moon in the sky and keep driving and it's behind me.

One of those nights where the voices in my head are yelling I can't do this I can't do this

I don't know what they think I can't do

One of those nights I want to put my foot on the gas pedal and accelerate forever

One of those nights I hate for all the lights to be green because I need to stop for a little bit

Let the red light illuminate the weight of grief being dropped on my shoulders again.

Is it grief?

I'm not sure it is, is it stress? is it loss?

Is it longing?

One of those nights I cry three times to the sound of NPR, short bursts of nothing that end like they began

and leave your eyes cloudy

like your vision is the moon, peering through the clouds

One of those nights the voices in my head are yelling

and I feel so alone

with the red light and the weight of longing.

One of those nights the Big Dipper peers through the windowshield and says hello

Every star is a sun

The universe is massive

You are tiny

Everything is so much bigger than this

Than you

You are not alone

I am not alone. Read more »

I know you're in pain. I see it written on your face every day, even when you're smiling. Except you're not smiling your smile, it's different.

I can read you like a book. A page turner, leaving me wanting more, waiting until I can read you again. I've marked my favorite lines in my memory, saved them so I can reread them later. At first glance, you seem average, regular, boring; but I don't judge you by you cover like so many others. I read on, searching for the feelings written on the pages of your face.

So I can see the pain behind the smile as you laugh at some joke that you don't care about. I read it in your eyes. If you could quit pretending to be fine, admit for a moment that you aren't ok, then I could finally hold you. Let you cry on my shoulder, like I've wanted to let you this whole time. Because things will never be ok, but they will get better.

I want to help things get better. Let me be part of your story. Let me write a happy ending.

I hate you

I growl          

My voice is echoing in the silence between us

I mean it

I just can’t…

I trail away

Averting my gaze

I can’t think of any words for what I feel for you

At that precise instant

So I pause

But it doesn’t last long

I shout at you

For what feels like years

I scream curse words that don’t belong in a place like this

I yell about how I should’ve run away

The day I met you

About how I never should’ve talked to you

About how the knives you drove into me

Were unlike any other

And how you hurt me

In ways I never could’ve imagined

Your utter silence kills me

I end my rant with a scream

I should just throw all of your stuff

Out onto the curb right now!

The only sound in the graveyard

Are the tweets of birds

I sink down in front of your gravestone

But I won’t

I whisper

Voice cracking on won’t

I don’t say anything after that

Because what can I say

The same things I say every anniversary

Say I’ll never throw your stuff away

Because after two years

It still smells like you

Say that I still leave our door unlocked

Because I’m still hoping that you’ll have just forgotten your key

And you’ll walk in like nothing happened

Say that I was right about you wearing a helmet

When you rode that goddamned motorcycle

Apparently helmets don’t help as much as you’d think Read more »

Author's note: while on my vacation last week, I saw this scene...

Fresh rain mixes with salt tears
newly dug earth turns to mud
the grieving girl stands alone
as the heavens pour down on her
tears no longer suffice to
express her despair
her mouth opens and she wails,
collapsing onto the grave
the destroyed girl mourns
the boy, his future, their past
as her body numbs
she remembers his wide smile and caring heart
she is alone, all alone without him. Read more »

I wish you were here to share this moment with me

I wish you were still here

Instead I sit alone and wish

Wish I had one last chance to hold you in my arms

Instead I sit here alone

Dear Leonardo it’s been a few years
Can you believe I can still find tears
To shed after all this time
Since you held me and promised to be mine

Dear Leonardo it’s been so long
Since we exchanged golden rings
Dancing as they played our song
Felt like we were flying on feathery wings

Oh Leonardo I’ve been so scared
Keep thinking of those moments we shared

Stolen from me in the middle of the night
Burning pain that still sears
There’s only one last light
Dear Leonardo where do I go from here

Dear Leonardo guess who I’ve got in my arms Read more »

She’s Gone.
As the words slip into the air, it seems they are just small talk. It’s a nice day, school went well, and she’s gone. My grandmother is dead. Why aren’t tears flowing down my cheeks? I’m upset, because I’m not upset. I stare out the window at a beautiful day, not sure what this lack of feeling means. Read more »

One Old Man,
Unable to control the tremors,
Fights to only keep his voice steady.
He tells us that she is not yet gone.
Frantically searching the three generations present,
His body language beseeches us
Not to forget her. He has to believe
She lives
In our hearts.
Even if he dies, and his children die,
The grandchildren must keep her alive.
He quivers as waves
Of emotion ripple through his body.
Old women, middle-aged men, young adults, and children
Wonder at the burden suddenly wedded to their shoulders.
We will all depart and at the same time remain for a period. Read more »

I heard what you said,
on the telephone.

She didn't look at me,
I ignored the slight
twitch
she had in her voice.

"You're father wants to speak to you"

and so he did,
in mimics and whispers about his dying
sister's husband who had once
(for fifteen years)
only been a lover that no-one
in the family had liked.

it's a waiting game,
with one hand on the door-knob and
one ear by the phone
waiting for the ringing sound to
expire from the plastic hunk sitting on the
ledge.
The bags are packed and we're
waiting to head out the
door to the car to the highway Read more »

Memoir to Borimir

Of the archer's cruel bow,
And the everlasting foe
Came the great blow of horn,
Heartfelt grief was then born

In an elve-crafted boat,
His body afloat,
Branded a traitor,
But died a defender.

A Tribute to the Lord of the Rings books

As the firth chill of winter sweeps through my body, the first frost of the season sprinkles the blades of grass, the first time my nose turns red; as all these tiny signs of winter commence, my own heart is touched with the same sense of coldness that tightens the layers of my skin. I suddenly recall that a whole year has gone by once again, this time adding up to the seemingly small, but truly large number six. It seems like the faster the days, months, springs, winters, falls, and summers go by, the farther I stray from the warmth, from the comfort, from the person I used to be. Read more »