Grief is not to be found in a dictionary, but in snapshots.
It looks like eyes--eyes closed, eyes open, eyes hidden.
Grief is being afraid to sleep because dreams are so frail and uncontrolled;
you could see anything there.
Grief is being afraid to sleep because it means admitting
you've been awake, that it was real.
Grief is showering because it is something to do.
Grief is made up of hours slipping by in seconds that pass like days.
There are less tears in grief than blank stares.
Grief is not a lack of beauty, but a sole appreciation
for some beauty that is fleeting, a narrow gaze fixed
on that one point, taking joy from nothing else.
The worst part?
Grief is knowing that worst is still to come.
"Grief is showering because it is something to do."
ReplyDeleteFor some reason, that line has stuck with me ever since I read this poem 3 years ago.
"Grief is made up of hours slipping by in seconds that pass like days."
I was actually just thinking about how my current Christmas break has seemed so short but each day seems to be going by so slowly. I'm not sure if that's the point you were trying to make, but I love how eloquently you put it.
And yes, I did just dig up one of your blog posts from 3 years ago.