December 28, 2022Missive

Everyone believes they

lossgriefmemorytimeidentitymortality

Everyone believes they

Will not cope,

How it feels to bear pain

Is beyond their scope

When the time comes

They will be found lacking

The look in the eyes of a child

When the kitchen knife

On the chopping board

That should have been out of reach

Cuts through a little finger,

The tears when the blood comes

The panic held in check

To allay fear.

Night terrors and

Stomach upsets that feel like death

In the heat of a long night

When convulsions

Bring an infant out in a rash

A fever running too high

The mad dash to Casualty

The anxious wait for news.

Parents grieve the loss

Every time a doctor is called

Until it matters,

When the unforeseen happens

Terrified that they will

Crawl into a corner

Weep uncontrollably

Bite off the heads of strangers

Act ungraciously

As a reaction to helplessness

When it is already too late

To make amends.

Silence in a graveyard

Is a matter of convention

When everything

Could do with a shake.

Celebrations are never out of place

It is their meaning

Which is open to interpretation

The dead are beyond caring

It is the living

Who need to feel the cut

Sharply driven down to the bone

Bluntly put

Forgiveness is a human concept

To be withheld

For the sake of appearance

When the truth of loss

Is that it can never really die

There is no end to it

When it is dead already.