We All Carry Ghosts

✩ Grief ✩

✩ Grief ✩

Sometimes I see your face

In the stars.

You smile from uncharted skies,

Like a portrait of peace,

I lay on the grass,

In the park,

My backyard,

It's a dream meadow.

Green blades tickle my skin,

Prick my flesh,

Caress my aching body.

A soft ballad plays among the clouds,

Lulling me to calm shores.

Your laugh echoes in the space between us.

My tears fall on this side of heaven.

The ache forces my hand to my chest

Where the steady beat

Remind me that I am alive.

You materialize beside me,

Intertwining our fingers,

Brushing away locks of my hair,

Uncovering my other half.

My bloodshot eyes

Have lost their sparkle.

I press into you,

Memorizing every feature.

I grip your fingers,

Branding your touch onto my soul.

You point out a constellation,

and I catch your hand in the air.

We stare at each other,

Holding hands and fighting fate.

I know that you'll let go first.

I know that I'll always hold on,

Gripping the air where you breathed beside me.

I know that my hand may one day let go,

But my heart never will.

You say that you have to go.

I shake my head,

Holding you tighter,

Closer.

I live in denial

that God could know better.

You say that you understand.

You say that it's time to let go.

You say that I'll be okay.

You say that this isn't goodbye.

I don't want to trust you.

I don't understand.

I don't know how to let you go.

I don't believe that I'll be okay.

I don't know how to say goodbye.

Your image blurs,

Growing distorted,

But it's not from the tears.

You wipe my tears and smile

As your legs disappear,

One atom at a time.

Your hand vanishes,

Leaving mine empty

And outstretched toward the heavens.

Your face is the last thing I see.

Your eyes meet mine,

And in them there is no pain,

No anger,

Only peace.

Your lips curl into one final smirk,

And I know that you will be okay.

I realize that you are ready to let us go.

"This is not goodbye,"

Is the last thing I hear.

Then you are gone,

And I'm still trying to hold on.

A part of me knows that I always will.

At least until I look up

And realize that I'm not.

No clenched fist,

No white-knuckled grip.

Just an empty hand,

Outstretched and open.

I don't want to let go.

I don't want to let you go.

I don't want to say goodbye.

But somehow I did.

Not by choice,

But by some miracle,

Some intervention of God.

By the work of His hand,

My fist is unclenched.

By the understanding of His love,

My white-knuckled grip on denial is loosened.

I don't want to let you go.

And maybe I never did.

Maybe letting go is not the same

As unclasping a death grip.

Maybe letting go does not mean

Pretending that it never happened.

Maybe letting go does not equal

Remembering how to live.

Maybe letting go is crying alone after midnight,

Clutching white bed sheets

And stifling my sobs

So they never know.

Maybe letting go is hoping that we will meet again

When I close my eyes

And drift off to sleep.

Maybe letting go is finding the strength to live again

When I don't know how.

Maybe letting go is laying a hand on my chest

And reminding myself that I am alive.

Maybe letting go is understanding the difference between

Grief and g r i e f.