Grief, a Visitor

She came to visit me this morning

I was fine, listening to the guidance

Of the meditation leader’s voice

I felt nothing but peace

And then I was crying

Holding the grief and also watching it rise up through my body.


I cobbled it back together

I pushed her away for a bit, leave me along grief

And again I was fine

Feeding kids breakfast

Jogging around the loop outside the door

Listening to a story podcast

Ah, I am just fine

Until she detailed the loss of her 10 month old baby

I couldn’t stop listening

And I went down in again

Grief slid her arms around me

And pulled me down, down, down

I am here with you now she whispered to me

I am the guest you can’t get rid of so easily.


The book I finished

The blog about a mother accepting her body finally

The pictures from Gaza

The pleas for peace and understanding

The children of mine, happy to do nothing and just play

The longing for what never was

The wondering of what will be

The clouds, rain, sun, humidity

Boats passing by on a beautiful mountain lake

The nap and the headache

The work left undone, because it must be undone.


All day this unexpected visitor

The one I did not invite

She sits by me, near me

She moves into my heart and pushes the tears out of my eyes

She creates a giant lump in my throat

She dims my appetite and gives me a runny nose

She seems to say I am here

This is my day with you

Do what you can, but for today, I am settled in

And I am not the type of guest who can entertain myself

Who can go see the sights and meet up for drinks later

I am the visitor who lingers on with no suggestion of relief

I am grief:  your unexpected guest, your unwelcomed, persistent visitor.



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