The Language of Grief

A poem about loss…

For Xynthia

‘Does’ and ‘will’ become
‘did’ and ‘would’,
sentences begin with
‘could’ and ‘should’.
‘I’m sorry’ has never carried
so much weight,
some words lose meaning like:
‘karma’ and ‘fate’.
We talk of ‘loss’
and ‘gone’ and ‘grief’
but words can’t convey
the disbelief
when a mother; a sister;
a daughter; a friend
is preparing for beginnings
and is faced with an end.
Now we talk of ‘memories’
and moments we shared
and find warmth in the knowledge
that so many cared
for a woman whose essence
can’t be captured with words,
as she rises above them
like a flock of birds
and her flight is powered
by a radiant soul,
which lights up the earth
from pole to pole.
But now back to words,
as there are two more to list:
they are ‘love’, which won’t fade,
and the fact she’ll be ‘missed’.
Rather than ‘the end’,
we can say she lives on
in her beautiful son
– so she’ll never be gone.

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