Artwork: The Milliners by Edgar Degas
Today is the day to grieve.
Locked up in my room, with
My cat curled up against me
I make list of things to grieve
For. Forgive me if I leave something
I will remember to grieve for it
The next time this day comes.
For all I know, this world needs
A lot more days dedicated to grief.
Let’s start with the city bombed
Thousands of miles away, where
A mother died while feeding
Her infant daughter. I grieve
For the the funeral they are denied.
A little closer, on the other side
Of the tracks, a man is whimpering
With hunger. There is nothing
To eat and the roof leaks. I grieve
For his empty stomach that my
Stocked kitchen can’t fill.
They killed yet another forest
Without apology. The cleared
Land will be used to push
The human race forward, they say.
I grieve for their naive minds.
The forest doesn’t need my grieving.
A few hundred meters from my home
Someone is digging a grave
For no-one in particular. I grieve
For anyone or anything that
Might be buried there. Sometimes
Hope can die and need a grave too.
Amidst all of this, I grieve for us
And our love that lies in a suspended
State of coma, between today and
Tomorrow, between here and there,
And between you and me.
Forgive me, but I need to stop now.
This grief is shamelessly enormous
And makes me forget everything else
I still need to grieve for. I should
Have separated the personal from
Public but the child who died in
The bombings resembles my
Niece. There is no public or personal
When it comes to the ocean of grief.
There are no life jackets here. The only
Way to come out is to drown completely.