If grief is love...

Today, I came across this poem written by Laurel Chen after Gwendolyn Brooks. I read it first about a year ago and promptly forgot about it seeing how I was dealing with multiple factions in my life then. 

I will briefly write about what the words ignited in me today evening as I read them. It's been quite a few days and someone from my family is angry with me. We cease to talk like we did before because we've decided to not talk about the one topic that was all which was left between us. And, so, here we are. As I read the lines, 

Grief is not the only geography I know.

I wish I could write in words and speak of the untamed ridges that befall upon me as I take in the hurt, anger, guilt and helplessness within me. I couldn't do enough for you, and it shall remain a deep regret within me.

If grief is love with nowhere to go, then 

Oh, I've loved so immensely.

If only I could let you believe that things happen for a reason and why being like this is better right now for all of us. Our days with longings shall never end, but by begrudging ourselves we are ending the good ones in our memory as well. You won't talk and burst when the bubble shall become unbearable for you to reside in whereas, I am here bearing the unsaid weight of your accusation and hurt.

That summer, everything I touched

was green.

So many ifs, that I don't know where to begin my confessions and where to end them. I feel like my truths are also foreshadowed with the fault in my memories now. Everything is a blur, moments turned hazy as I search for the right truth within them. I did invent some of it to protect everyone I know. What from, you ask me, and I cannot answer that it's your self- destruction that worried me to death.

Let me grow through this green

and not drown in it.

The only hope is to feel spatial justice as the distance keeps widening the rift between us. There's no poetry even as my mind wanders to the sullied tears we shared not knowing how much we've hurt each other. 

Let me feel hurt.

Your silence makes me feel guilty however as much I try to run away from the thought. Our words are empty and this threadbare soul knows it all. 

I know I can heal.

Once upon a time, you made me believe in this. I wish to more so now. 

Let me try again - again and again.

Only hope carries me through this thought. I wish you peace my brother.