Grief is the silent walk of tears
In your eyes, as your body silently,
And normally walks through daily life.
It’s not being able to make anything
Of the silent walk, and walking silently.
Grief is standing on the edge of the road
You have crossed a million times
And then not finding energy,
Or skill to cross it.
Grief is sitting on the edge of that road
For hours on end
Grief is wanting silent and empty roads.
Grief is staring at food
And not wanting to eat it
Despite being hungry
Grief is cancelling the order of chai
That you gave when you entered
The shop: Grief is closing your eyes
Sitting in the next shop
Waiting silently for the chai
Hoping the shopkeeper of the previous
Dhaba didn’t notice.
Grief is not knowing what to do
When faced with a sincere smile
Or compassion, Grief is
Shutting down and acting cold
Towards that person, while trembling inside
Grief is feeling guilty
For not accepting that compassion.
Grief is identifying with the tiredness
In eyes or in gestures
Of people ignoring their own sorrows
And miseries, for the sake of their livelihood
Grief is self-forgetting because of that empathy
Grief is finding belonging in tired eyes
And desperate gestures
And sweaty shirts in May afternoons,
Grief is the tear that clears the vision
Clouded by privilege or inertia.
Grief is beautiful.