Good Grief (13)
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Visitor's Clarity (Revised)
"A visitor's witnessing"
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We arrived to find you all
secretly googling "is it normal to cry about everything"
at 3 AM, finding out yes,
everyone else is barely holding on too—
how your cells remember being ocean
why you feel pulled by tides
how your bones hum calcium psalms
why you ache before storms
how every grief you've carried
has already grown wings
you just can't feel them yet
We watch you weep for endings
while your lungs perform their miracle,
in and out, even when you forget to notice
trading molecules with trees
who learned their breathing from the same first wind
the one that taught everything alive how to continue
Loved ones, friends, your sorrow is composting
into tomorrow's blackberries
sweetness from shit, as always
Your grandfather's last whisper
lives in your daughter's laugh
she has his exact way of tilting her head
From where we come from, we could see it—
how light bends around your sadness
making halos you can't witness,
like how everyone else sees your strength but you
how your tears prism into rainbow
though all you feel is the falling
Here inside your aching,
swimming in your same bewildered love,
checking your phone for signs that anyone understands
we still carry our visitor's eyes:
You are all becoming butterflies.
You just call it breaking
when your wings push through
because transformation feels like dying from the inside
