Grief is a Thief (with audio)

 

 

When Grief comes looking for you,

it doesn’t just quietly knock at your back door or gently call out your name.

Grief is a thief

-that comes in the middle of everything-

<unremorsefully>

taking up space in your home in a room you didn’t know you had.

It is the shadow of sorrows that lingers on your white walls

even when the sun has long since tucked itself in for the night.

It is the rusty barge that charges through your living room

and your dining room

and takes up residence in every crevice of your house.

It is the uninvited guest

that sits at every table,

lives in every home,

and is in every place I’ve ever known.

Grief is a thief.

It will steal seconds from your precious existence

by making you believe

it is the only entity worth entertaining.

Grief is the massive weight of carrying something that you can never put down again

because it is a part of

who you are now.

It is the breath you can’t quite catch,

so you keep trying to inhale

but the only air you can bring in tastes chalky and stale.

It is the unwelcome burden of trying to darken thousands and thousands of stars with

your bare hands that you can’t stop shaking.

–the shaking, the internal, unbearable coldness of Grief–

The absolute desolation of a huge void that can never be filled up

opens

when Grief takes hold.

It is the unrelenting unrest of being so incredibly tired that complete exhaustion seems

imminent.

“You aren’t broken,” they’ll tell you.

“You need time,” they’ll say.

“Just appreciate what you have,” they’ll plead.

Indeed, Grief is a thief.

And for every thief I’ve ever known:

They are cunning.

They are crafty.

They are calculating.

They are sly.

They will haunt you with their lies upon lies upon lies.

We aren’t gifted with removing them from our home like a pile of trash

smashed into a plastic bag so compactly that you barely have room to tie the top closed.

No.

Not a thief.

A thief takes.

For the moment you invited Love into your home,

Grief packed its bag of tricks

and came to live with you:

Unremorsefully,

Unrelentingly,

Undeniably,

Unequivocally,

Inevitable.

But for every thief out there, they make mistakes.

The greatest mistake

a thief ever makes

is what they leave behind.

A reminder.

A prompt, perhaps?

A delicate balance of seeing what was, and what is, but never again of what could be.

Because what could be, has changed.

It has morphed itself into so many scattered pieces that its newness doesn’t know how to

be put back together again.

And the new you isn’t the you you’d thought you’d be, or wanted to be or hoped you’d be.

The new you feels:

incomplete.

An inconsolable deficiency of feeling– inadequate.

But in fact, you are not.

Grief just blinded you in your own home.

To take a grand pause, inside a poem, reminds you

that

you

are

present.

And as the poet who is trying to beg life to let her live in that moment of presence,

I implore you…

to kindly give me Grace if my words

should come stumbling out or I fumble through my verbs,

please forgive me.

Grief still lingers inside the walls of me.

And I cannot lie to you and tell you

it

gets

better.

I cannot tell you that

it

gets

easier.

I cannot even tell you

how

to make it all better.

But

Hope

makes

it

so.

For the moment you invited Love into your home,

Hope was busy planting a garden in

the backyard you didn’t know you had.

Hope was filling you up with sunflowers and ivy and daisies and roses of every color.

Hope watered them for you while Grief tried to distract you.

Hope kept planting and replanting and brought sunlight to the areas that needed it most.

All the while, Grief’s ghost haunted you and tried to make you the grand host of loss.

But Hope’s perpetual moss kept growing while you begrudgingly entertained Grief’s

thieving need

to keep you contained.

Hope gently reminded you to open your windows,

to bring in fresh air where the stagnant air lingered.

Hope quietly showered you with the seeds of Joy

by reminding you

that the greatest gifts aren’t taken…

they are Lovingly remembered

and eternally given.

27 Comments

  1. Grief is a thief indeed….This is a masterpiece I guess!

    The great description you provided made me see the grief everywhere! A black shadow invading and taking my entire life, a shadow that makes you believe it’s the only entity worth entertaining! This void that can never be filled up and it tricks us perfectly that we do believe nothing exists outside its world!….Perfect description of a very hard feeling 👍
    “Grief is the massive weight of carrying something that you can never put down again
    because it is a part of
    who you are now”
    Then I loved the tone change and the part of the thief mistakes, the scattered pieces that still fighting despite feeling incomplete to be in the present… then the hope presence despite everything! The hope that kept the work despite all the grief was entertained, the hope is there even when there is so sign it even exists! An astonishing way to state it ❤
    Great poem and each and every word was perfectly placed and perfectly expressed👍👍👍😊

    Liked by 2 people

      1. My pleasure 😊 it’s rather I properly read or I don’t so you don’t need to thank me! It’s really a masterpiece 😊 ❤ have a great day

        Like

  2. I can’t actually describe how on point your words are. -A delicate balance of seeing what was, and what is, but never again of what could be.- This feeling here, causes me to become short of breath, needing to get up and walk around outside for fresh air. Overwhelming.. I so deeply feel your thoughts. Thank you for putting this feeling into words.♥️♥️

    Liked by 3 people

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