The grief of moving on
Grief is a ghost I can never quite manifest completely
It lingers so constantly, I have forgotten how
to be astonished or overwhelmed — It just joins me
In the kitchen while I open the cabinets
Or pour milk in my morning cereal
There is an ache in the inability to respond as I once did
Memories rattle like chains in an attic
I can see them, feel them of course —
But they are intangible now
And though I acknowledge them
They howl and sigh just the same
Until they are just the wind in the trees
The chill in the floorboards
A familiar background to a stuttered life
How do I hold the gravity of this grief?
It is forever in the peripheral — outlining the edges of my day
Like a headache just birthed and
Lodged at the base of my skull
I am ever aware
And it is bittersweet because
There you are, my darling girl
And here you never will be