Meet My Grief

A beloved plant eaten by deer for breakfast, another uprooted whole by gophers

Meet the plane crash. The melodies she had inside her, now quiet forever

Meet the moment I knew one of us will go

Meet the heart breaking, just imagining

Meet my mother, who I am very much like, but forgot to love

Meet the love that has returned years late

The body that cries, each part missing itself

Meet the hunger that is never satisfied: dark chocolate, rice pudding, scrambled eggs with toast. Never enough. Ever.

Meet the curls that speak of death and memory

Meet the memory that asks why? And why not me?

The 520,000 who didn’t get to say goodbye

Meet the survivor who buried his journals under the house in the ghetto.  In case he didn’t survive.

Emptiness-drowning in fear

Meet the body that has forgotten how to balance, the nausea, heartburn, joint pain, headache, insomnia, hot flashes, drowsiness, the snoring.

Meet the howl, the growl, the wail, the private sob, the groan, the sigh, the praise, the joy

The relief, the surprise, the circle.

The plants grew back the next season, to be nibbled on again.

Meet the grief, I love you, don’t go

And let us say Amen

Meet the worry about the grief yet to feel

That I won’t survive it

That I didn’t survive it

That I will be one of those who will throw herself into the coffin or the ocean, or into the bed, or into the pint, the gallon, of coffee ice cream

Meet the conversation with the doctor who gave us the bad news in the room without Kleenex

Meet the Shechinah, sitting with me, crying, never leaving my side

Meet the one who filmed the murder, the whole world is watching.

Meet the shaking and shaking

Meet Coyote who knew she was dying.  No one knew.  (“she looked good”)

Meet the ones who bury the dead in earth, near strangers, in coffins, in shrouds

Who pick up the body, prepares the body, speaks gently to their soul

Meet the ones who press the buttons of the crematoria

Who will hold them at night?

Meet the theatres and restaurants built on top of sacred sites

What are the ancestors saying? Listen devotionally.

Meet the cleaning woman who found the body in the motel.  Who listened to her that night? Held her hand, or brought her delicious soup?

What was her name?  Did she ever work in a motel again?

Meet the soul searching for home

The breath that has forgotten how

Meet the teenager who falls on the floor sobbing that she misses that little girl she once was.

Meet those fleeing from fires, floods, cold, winds, smoke, lightning

On foot, in cars, on wings

Meet the confused, the artist, the brain that doesn’t match

The one who visits the ER to learn how to stop trying to die

Meet the grief of the tender witnesses of the dying, the dead, and the mourners.

They touch and speak to them quietly, accompanying

Meet the grief afraid to make a sound