First – Chill – then Stupor – then the letting go –
Emily Dickinson
How is it that I find myself,
again, suckling grief
in my latter years
when I had thought to lay
this stillborn child
in its grave long since,
resigned to loss?
Sorrow will not pass away.
It niggles, demanding
I attend to its fresh tears,
jars me awake
with persistent whines, bids me
lay it to my breast
and let it feed.
Day 26 ~ GRIEF
Karin is our host in The Imaginary Garden today, inviting us to Reboot, Rewind, Recycle, Rebirth
Grief no doubt never ends .. perhaps it's just that we learn how to camouflage it better with time. I particularly like and feel the comparison of grief to a stillborn child is poignant.
ReplyDeleteOne always hopes to have suffered the last major grief of one's life, until the next arrives. Thanks, Sanaa.
DeleteI have heard it said that grief never ends, it just changes direction. No matter how old we get, we always have grief with us. Just life. I look down my life road and realize there is more grief ahead. How do we prepare for it?
ReplyDeleteI guess experience teaches us how to deal with it.
DeleteA wonderful metaphor here, Kerry. Very relatable even though super creative. Thanks. (Sorry to have been so absent. April was a month of deadlines for me, and when I've had breaks, I've mainly done children's drawings!) k.
ReplyDeleteThank you for the inspiration, Karin.
DeleteSo melancholy and I can feel the sense of the overstaying guest. Grief is indeed insistent and it's necessary that we be with it for however long a while, but at some point that bitch has got to get her own apartment and get out.
ReplyDeleteAnd then suddenly POOF, she's gone. Such a pleasant and unexpected surprise.
DeleteHaha! Yes, I quite agree with both of you!
DeleteI'm with Toni on this; I don't think grief ever leaves you.With time, you learn to live through it, knowing that this darkness will pass, the sun will break through the clouds, and you will find your way back to happiness again. Until the next time.
ReplyDeleteNot stillborn, merely sleeping ... but we do learn how to deal with each new child in turn, and time mostly helps (except when they wake up crying loudly – again).
ReplyDeleteYou’ve created a strong metaphor in this poem, Kerry, especially for those of us who are mothers. As we get older, we are reminded of past grief, confronted with fresh grief and sometimes we look ahead to grief that hasn’t come yet, to prepare ourselves; but when it does come, it’s always a shock.
ReplyDeleteYes, that is what I was intending in this grim comparison. Thanks, Kim.
DeleteI've fed that waif, and since I've no milk to share, it's taken my blood ~
ReplyDeleteThat will keep it alive make no mistake.
DeleteI'm a recovering drunk, and what they teach in the recovery rooms is that spiritual growth is both essential and invariably a pain in the ass. It is how full hearts are grown. This poem amazes at the endless ghostings of grief, how it returns again and again, revenant of joys long lost, the abesent face of presence. Anyway hugs and keep growing.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Brendan - for everything.
DeleteSuch grief is one that never leaves you... a "what if" grief that I think many women carry... there are always those sad sad moments.
ReplyDelete