We Will All Know - May 16 2023

We Will All Know

May 16 2023

I don't know how grief

is supposed to look.

But when I saw her

I could feel it;

like a black hole

from which no light escaped,

her sadness

had a force of gravity

that inexorably drew me in.

Bereavement is contagious,

contaminates

all who approach.

Some blame,

looking for scapegoats

and cursing fate.

Some cannot contain themselves.

They weep, wail, blubber,

suffer

the unbearable pain

of a broken heart.

They wallow in tears

and collapse in someone's arms,

calling out

the name of the departed.

Some take charge,

micro-managing

to distract themselves.

And some wait,

pushing the pain

down into some deep dark place

where it will fester and curdle

but never go away.

Will ooze up, someday;

a black sludge

that fouls all it touches.

But even the quiet ones

no matter how subtle

are easy enough to tell.

The flat faces

drained of blood.

The slow gait

distracted gaze.

The slumped shoulders

and sunken eyes.

But me, I'm not a crier.

I don't easily share.

So I was an automaton,

sleepwalking through

the entire ordeal;

perhaps stiffer and grimmer

but still my stoical self.

Because no one knows

how grief looks.

Even though, in the fullness of time

we will all know how it feels.