Month: March 2017

Now dawn comes with its heartbreak
above benign Bouton
the mother and her last son wake
as light climbs the Piton.

When we grieve,
solar plexus feeling
that soreness
as if someone carelessly overstuffed a bag and all sentiments want to ease out spill out out out out out out unzip the constriction, un zip zip zip
we lament the dreamspackedtightlyunabletobepulledoutofconstriction.
But more than that,
we grieve the loss of our selves,
selves we had poured into that person for safe-keeping and nurturing,
the ways only that person knew.
Our selves zip tighter tighter as if to contain who we are reluctant to lose more because there’s an incomplete part of us that we trusted that person with and we can’t retrieve it so we have to zip zip zip up what we have now what we know now who we are now.

When we grieve
solar plexus feeling
an emptying,
that even though we reach inside to try to touch memories, images, voices, the absence

is so wide,

we wonder,

how and when did this person take up so much space in my heart, how did I not know this?

Did they know?

When we grieve
solar plexus weeping
for the inability to say to them how much they meant to us, and we vow to tell all the living how we feel

We curl inward and outward, filling and emptying, feeling and emptying, filling, feeling, fill, feel

I am learning to hold hurts gently.

 

 

©galiciablackman