The Grief Garden

The Grief Garden

This heightened rage

serves as the fertilizer

rooted in the soil

of this family’s

never-ending trauma.

Too many times,

I have watched our beloved

return to this Earth

that has housed the fire even

our mental illness

couldn’t contain.

Ashes to ashes.

Dust to dust.

Forced into my solitude,

I lie here-- awake

in this grief garden

I’ve built.

Vine covered walls

built by the bricks

of my disappointment

sealed tight with my pain.

In this garden,

I know I have to

keep love out.

Refusing to let anyone

water what now is

my Sahara of solitude.

Let this heat wave of grief consume every vein,

every fiber of this human holding cell

my heavy hearts own private hell.

And I am left parched,

thirsting for something

I know I don’t deserve.

Just let me fucking burn,

for it is the only way

I will ever be purged.

Scatter my ashes

amongst the thorn

covered roses

you refused to pick

in my own

grief garden.

We all dream

of something

intangible.

Ashes to ashes.

Dust

to

dust.

Photo © Alex Cooper