Vents Hidden in Verse

grief.

A/N: unhealed trauma things ✌️ feeling kinda frisky, might break down ‼️

written September 21st, 2021 at 4:45 p.m.

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my grandfather
on my mother's side
passed
in 2013.

he died from pneumonia.

i've heard the word "grief"
too many times within the past few days
that these memories have resurfaced.

i tend to speculate
that this event
is what started me down a path
of mental health issues.

but we never talk about it much.

as a child, i was suddenly told one day
that "thaa pai yuu gap pou nhoi."
"your grandfather is going
to stay with [one of your other grandpas]."

that one in particular
was already dead by that point.

minutes, it took,
for my younger brain to process those words.

the perfect world that i lived in
shattered with each jolt of realization.

it was like she threw a match
directly into a flourishing rose bush
within my garden.

story of my life by one direction
was all that would play on the radios
to and from the funeral services.
a wave of catharsis hits me
whenever i hear it around.

i have never been the same since this event.

so what is grief?

grief is this poem;
it expresses itself in many ways.

grief is the heart-drop
when hearing you failed the test,
when hearing that bad piece of news,
when seeing your hard work waste away.

grief is that sudden swerve you must make.
it throws gravity itself off balance.

grief is all that within itself.
the word is too heavy
for me to lift with my bare hands.

yet grief is the hammer
hitting the iron fresh out of the forge.
it slams against the softened material,
but it shapes the weapon
with every hit.

grief takes shape in the weights you lift,
molding that bicep with every curl upward.

grief is so hideously indescribable,
yet is so common amongst us.

we come to understand each other
both through our joys and our trauma.
it makes us oh-so dynamic.

i wouldn't have it
any other way.