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Mar 17
poetry

Grief

Grief doesn’t make any sense unless you’re in it.

It’s weird when someone’s there and then they’re not.

There’s a pause, and then it hits, and then you pause, and then it hits.

There’s a line of water glasses on the counter. You have the will to take a sip but you’ve forgotten about them.

Like the memories of the person in your mind and the basket they gave you for your birthday that you must have lost in the move.

Even the cat’s sadder than normal.

Grief’s not a constant breakdown like in the shows.

More like a tagalong shadow that fills the cracks of your life.

You just took a break, scrolled through your phone. Cursing, you remember again.

There’s a darkness in your heart and throat.

A blankness behind your eyes.

It’s seeping through you like water and mud.

You’re now writing to cope instead of for pleasure.

Yesterday you worried about dinner. Today you worry about airplane tickets and breaking the news.

The dusk fog outside reminds you of your head.

Grief is so passive, it does nothing but sit there and burn.

It stands in your heart and sets you on autopilot. 

It’s passive until it isn’t.

They’re right when they say to let the pain in.

The longer you forget the worse it is when you remember.

 
Posted: 03.17.22
About the Author: theshortfriend
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Comments

  1. Mar 17, 2022

    This is so so good. Really truthful and yearning and just spectacular. You really captured the feeling of grief really well, enough to make me feel sad.
    Also, welcome to YWP!

    ( I think I made you up inside my head )

  1. Mar 24, 2022

    I really like your poem. I like how you wrote in the second person perspective. When I was reading, the second person made me feel a bit of grief. I think you perfectly described the feeling of grief. I also really like how you included little details that someone wouldn’t normally write about, like “There’s a line of water glasses on the counter.” I think that those details help flesh out your poem and make it much more real. Your last line, “The longer you forget the worse it is when you remember,” is very powerful. Even on its own, it stirs up emotion.
    The variation in the lengths of your lines is also really nice and pleasing to read. It makes it more organic and it flows better. I might be a bit biased, because I don’t really like poetry that follows strict syllable and rhyming patterns. I also like how you break the fourth wall a bit in your line “You’re now writing to cope instead of for pleasure.” It implies that the reader is also the writer and is writing to themself, which I find to be cool. Your metaphors and similes are very good. They’re elegant and easy to relate to. For example, “It’s seeping through you like water and mud.” This simile is very nice. It’s very easy to understand, but hard to describe literally. Does your choice of using “water and mud” as the simile come from the fact that New England is currently in mud season (?
    To make it better, I think you could’ve incorporated more of the five stages of grief. Right now, it just looks like the fourth stage, depression. For example, you could have inserted some lines like “At first, it didn’t seem real” for denial. You already did a bit with your second to last line, “They’re right when they say to let the pain in.” It feels like it’s leaning a bit towards the acceptance phase, and I really like it.

    Andre Whiteberg

  1. Mar 26, 2022

    Caroline,

    This is so well done. I like this line: More like a tagalong shadow that fills the cracks of your life.

    That's so true. It's not like how it is portrayed in TV shows---of course nothing is. Reading your poem this morning is especially poignant for me as I just learned some sad news about my uncle. And while he is old, he is still lively and enjoying life (and someone I feel close to). So your poem really touched me. Thank you.