Sleeping With Grief

I woke up
with Grief today
his heavy arms
wrapped around my chest
best to disentangle myself
from the sheets
place my feet
on the floor
make not a sound
at the door
and hope
he stays sleeping

each footfall sounds
like the ghosts of brooms sweeping

I stop
they fade

over breakfast
I pray

  • do not forget this Grief –
    this grief
    that holds you tight

it is the feeling of moments
darkness then light
crashing like waves
into a night
a night that feels
like it will end

he sleeps
and a part of me weeps
watching the outline of Grief’s
strange features

his eyes are the stars
his mouth, this earth
and his body
is everyone I’ve loved

the beauty of it all is
the small rise and fall
of his chest
and the rest –
the way it will end.
ever incomplete,
the soft soles of his feet,
and his hands,
his hands