Sunday, September 25, 2022

So No One Comes Back

People often write about something
Like, a person-shaped hole in the world,
When they write about struggling with grief,

You know—How could I ever fill in
That person-shaped hole in the world?
It’s an interesting metaphor,

She said, discussing her lost baby
With a friend, while her husband listened
Quietly, trying to glean something

About her state of mind that he felt
Was just beyond him, eluding him.
Then she added, more emphatically,

I don’t think there is any such thing!
Her friend looked startled, and her husband
Leaned in, but she was telling herself.

You can’t fill that hole because the world
Doesn’t ever allow any holes,
Not any real ones. It fills back in.

You don’t get anything you can fill,
No place you can put . . . even the ache,
Even feelings. The world pours right in,

Like the baby you lost never fit,
And you’ve got no place to put your grief,
No space you can hold open for them.

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