poeming on a wednesday, in memory
Little Drops of Water
There's a mom, somewhere, grieving.
The ultrasound just showed no heartbeat,
and she's sitting there alone
because who would have thought
grief would come at a routine appointment.
There's a dad, somewhere, grieving.
His baby slipped silently from his
beloved's body last year. Grief shared
but he still feels alone in a room
filled with other fathers.
There's a not-yet-a-mom, somewhere, grieving.
She thought she would be a mom by now.
She sees her babies in her dreams.
She lets herself cry after seeing
pregnant bellies day after day.
There's a grandmother, somewhere, grieving.
Her grandson died when the car
he was riding in flipped after being
hit by a truck. Grief shared, but she
feels the pain is pulling her under.
There's a grandfather, somewhere, grieving.
His granddaughter serving her country
was killed by friendly fire.
Fire isn't friendly when it kills.
He sings his heart out in the shower.
There's a person here, grieving.
My child is your child and yours is mine.
Losing him, losing her, hurts us all.
Our grief is shared, but still feels lonely.
Let's sing our griefs out into the world.