Paradox of grief

 You hold grief prisoner,

Though you cannot contain fleeting time.

 

You hold onto every memory you have,

Though you cannot cradle the essence of their being,

You grasp your being tightly, while struggling to keep theirs alive.

 

You embrace the ambiguity of these troubling thoughts,

Soaking in the grayness of a mind that seems to have a mind of her own

 

But am I not part of their being?

Should you not let grief settle in?

 

Why do they say that grief hides in most familiar and unfamiliar places?

Aren’t you supposed to carry on, with grief as your anchor?

Does grief ground you?

 

As always, there are too many questions run in parallel

And yet you ask, why do I camouflage?

 

Yours

Mastering the art of becoming, where solace arrives on a not-so-wintery morning

~Cathartic~

 

So serendipitous but not-so-destined

How do you expect her to feel?

When she learns the boy she loved

With every corner of her soul

Once loved her, too?

 

Not now.

Not still.

 

But he did at some point in his lifetime and in her lifetime.

Conveniently.

Briefly.

Serendipitously.

 

She doesn’t know

Whether the truth breaks her more

Or sets her free

 

And yet somehow 

That almost-love

Feels heavier

Than none at all.

 

Then there is destiny.

Then there is ‘destined’.

Then there is domino effect.

 

What is love, truly?

Why can’t it be simple?

Why can’t it be serendipitous?

Why can’t it be a Hallmark Christmas movie?

Why can’t it be two people sitting together on a bench under the autumn sky?

 

Well, as always, I ask too many questions!

It is. What it is. 

 

Yours

Apparently

On the cusp of turning 40

One must do some damage control

One must learn to blunt the hurt

One must learn to tidy the heart

One must learn to grieve the grief

One must learn to patch the leaking wound

One must sit with oneself

Not as a critic

But as a witness to survival

For this is not the end

This is an ode to new beginnings