grief
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The funny manalways knows too much. That is whyhe keeps laughing. He has seenwhat people becomewhen nobody is watching. He knowsinstitutions have teeth. He knowspower rarely admitswhen it is hungry. So he makes jokesabout conspiracies,government files,aliens,politicians, anythingto keep the room laughinglong enoughthat nobody notices how tired his eyes are. Some men wear armor. Some carry…
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Nobody tells youthe dead follow detectives home. Not like ghostsin white dresses. Nothing so mercifully obvious. They followin smaller ways. A photographthat will not leavethe back of your eyelids. A child’s bedroom. A mother’s scream. The soundof somebody askingwhy. They follow youthrough the front door, sit beside your childrenat dinner, crawl beneath the sheetsbetween youand…
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Some people leavebecause they are cowards. Some leavebecause staying would cost too much. And some— some tear themselvesout of your lifewith both hands bleeding,because they have convinced themselvestheir absenceis the only gift they have left. A mother stands at the edge of deathand chooses her children. Not softly.Not beautifully. No final lullaby,no gentle apologyfor every…
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I thought I had already mourned you. That was my mistake. I thought grief was a dooryou walked through once,bloodied your feet on the threshold,and somehow came outdifferent enoughto survive it. But the dead keep finding me. In old voices.In impossible reunions.In names spoken softlywhen I have almost learnedhow not to flinch. Danika. Like a…
Between Bruises & Blooms 