I guess that is not true,
Sadness vanishes at times,
Happy in the market amongst the colorful array,
As organic fruit and veggie piles abundant transmit their joy.
Talking to that acquaintance deeply disturbed by the news,
His turn looming nearby,
I imagine he thought my bouncy smiles absurd.
I have been happy since he died.
That morose morning
An angelic friend visited,
Attending closely to the overpowering suffering,
Massaging the heaviness away,
‘Til I calmly saw,
All is as it should be.
I remember smiling
As I drove down this mountain
Early one vibrantly emerald spring morning,
Famous brothers bantering on the radio.
One of them had also passed from this realm.
Sadness is there now,
That is the simple fact on close inspection.
Arising while I drive through these rolling hills
Towards her idyllic home,
Sensing it would be graciously received.
Grief lurked most of the evening.
Finally I succumbed as I lie on my side,
Comforted by white down in our luxurious bed,
You not there to hold me.
If I stay busy enough,
The gloomy mood can be held at a tenuous bay.
Not keen to feel into myself these days.
He says sadness means we need more rest.
I am told more “primitive” societies
Relieved you of all your responsibilities.
For one whole year grieving was your sacred work
As they watched over you and cared for you,
Ensuring you didn’t do anything rash.
They knew these were dangerous times
And grief, done well, would one day bring her gifts.
Can I be with the sadness?
Can I listen to her?
What does she need from me?
What is she whispering or screaming at me?
“Please don’t leave me alone,
I need you here with me”.
There is so much to do.
The endless business of afterdeath is more in order now,
Something larger moves the tedious details along,
Piles of black and white paper are more organized,
The taxes, his and mine, can wait.