p r e s e n c e | a poem

I thought that my body couldn’t sustain grief

*

the immeasurable

*

grief is never what you anticipate it to be

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grief forces you to leave a part of yourself behind

and look at someone new within you

who takes on your face, your body, your language

*

a part of you won’t move forward

a part of you whispers, I’ll stay here

and goes silent

*

never had I been more aware of my warmth

than when I held your dead hand in mine

*

I familiarised myself with every dead aspect of you

in thirty minutes

and I knew, irrevocably so, that that’s not all there is

that there are things in this very room that I simply cannot see

and you had become one of them