How do you talk about a sunset, without sounding like every conversation about sunsets?
At the market, the checker she says, The sunset is beautiful—I love that I can watch it from this window.
I say, Oh yes, the colors are stunning. Those pinks, those yellows.
Then, when I get home, my mother-in-law, she says, Did you see the sunset?
I say, Oh yes, the colors are incredible. So bright.
Words replaced but constant in their meaning.
How do you talk about a sunset? How do you talk about anything, really?
About grief.
About a caged bird who sings of freedom—
Clipped wings that do not dip into a sunset or a sky.
Everyone asks how we are, but everyone is doing terribly—
How do you talk about grief?
Lovely and lonely and lyrical,
Grief rolls me about inside her mouth like a small pebble
Teaching me to be quiet and to be still—
I live in the shared space of my imagination, inventing new words for feeling sad.
The world has changed, and it is temporary but it does not feel that way—
And we say, Do you remember what it was like to freely leave the home?
It feels so long ago, but it was only just last week.
Collective.
How do you talk about grief when grief belongs to everybody in a single moment?
Uncertain of the future, how do you talk about a grief you do not know is even there?
There is work in feeling sadness—
You must name the grief, and then you must allow it to proceed inside you. In ordered fashion, through tears or anger, denials and mistrusts.
This morning, I sit outside and feed the single bird that answers to my call. The rest of them, baiting me from the branches of the trees above my head. How they glide out into the wind and leave me sitting in my fear, naming the sky as their own.
How do you talk about a caged bird, or share something that feels uniquely yours?
We say, When do you think this all will end?
No one has an answer, and so we talk about that too.
Lovely and lonely and lyrical,
Grief rolls us about inside her mouth like a small pebble
Teaching us to be quiet and to be still.
There are no new ways to describe sunsets,
But there are still sunsets—and every one of them is new.
Pingback: Naming Grief – HemmingPlay
Beautiful doesn’t do it justice. Nevertheless, your words painted a lovely sunset for me. Blessings as you continue to mourn.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I grieve for the loss of my best friend, now gone these past two years. I grieve for my native land still trapped in divisive racist politics. I grieve for Brazil, my former adopted homeland, whose democratic government has fallen prey to corrupt oligarchs. I grieve for my adopted homeland of the United States for we have chosen to elect a leader who cares only about enriching myself and the oligarchs who support him. I grieve for the peoples of Planet Earth as we hurtle blindly towards our own self-extinction.
Indeed, how do we name grief when we are all consumed by it, in its myriad shapes, forms, and colors–knowingly or unknowingly?
Hold onto the sunset and the sunrise. They remain a constant reminder that we are not in control and were never in control of the universal forces that govern our lives.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Yes. Yes and yes. I am sorry for your griefs friend. There is little to console these griefs, and yet the knowledge of love and a tomorrow is strong. Be safe and heal well ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
let it out
shout
and tell
yell
and sit a spell too
LikeLiked by 2 people
Beautiful. Thank you
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you ❤
LikeLike
It is amazing how quickly things can get pared down. Thankfully, the earth and celestial bodies still are in their orbits and we can take much strength in that, beginning each day anew.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Yes, the newness is important here. A valuable lesson to take with us. The world is still moving on–and even healing, during these times. All will resolve itself. Grief is okay as the healing transpires ❤
LikeLike
Beautiful. I am so blessed to have happened upon you and your blog.
LikeLiked by 2 people
This post has really touched my heart 🌺
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sunsets are one constant we have, some more beautiful than others. Grief also comes, oftener for some, and worse for some! Take care
LikeLiked by 1 person
And there’ll always be another one tomorrow. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Shayleene,
So beautifully said.
When my father died, late November, I vowed I would be real about grief. What has surprised me is that I now know I could be nothing else, but real, when it comes to grief, for it is as though it has overtaken my very being. When the tears came, there was no holding them back. When memories brought joy, I had to share them. When exhaustion hit, I slept. When sadness, anger, shock, nostalgia appeared I had to live in them, for pretending was no longer an option.
It is as though an anchor is not just lifted, but eliminated, and one can only ride the waves as they come.
May you feel supported by those around you, may you feel the peace that surpasses human understanding, may you receive rest as you learn to live with grief.
Carole
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful!
LikeLiked by 1 person
“Teaching us to be quiet and to be still.” Love this. So many complaints about our crazy, busy lives and all of a sudden the brakes have been applied. Grief gives such a different perspective.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love ittttt❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
Two seperate poems and thoughts, however, uniquely and beautifully woven into a tapestry set on display for us to enjoy.
Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on Write and Create (from Creative Writing Course) and commented:
http://www.thewritinglife43439030.wordpress.com
LikeLiked by 1 person
I lost my dad… But I still can’t pour out what I feel… I wallow in my misery too inventing new words for feeling sad…. This is great
LikeLike
We really like how you describe grief here and would like to feature you in our upcoming issue of “This Just In… Tears Bloom.”
LikeLike
Just checking in. We wanted to make sure including you in our feature this week was approved…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hi there–sorry, just getting back on after some time away. My apologies for the late response. You are more than welcome to use any of my content 🙂
LikeLike
No worries. We are very grateful for your blessing. Although we missed this issue due to timing, as soon as the next issue comes out we will send you the link to the video you will be featured in 🙂
LikeLike
Beautifully written.
LikeLike
Reblogged this on johncoyote and commented:
Amazing poetry shared by a talented writer.
LikeLike
I loved your work dear Shayleene. You are amazing story teller and poet.
LikeLiked by 1 person
❤
LikeLike
such intimate and touching verse, a shared experience for all in your words, nicely penned.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you friend. Be safe and well.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you friend ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
Always happy to read and share great writing, My Dear!
xoxo 😊💕😘🌹🌹
LikeLiked by 1 person