Space
Immigration: a one-way inward movement.
The undertow of my mind
gains strength
I slip through the cracks
into my new foreign home
of Grief
I prefer where I grew up
where people die quietly of old age
but I loved a boy not yet 24
who turned the war zone corner of addiction
was hit by a heroin bomb
and his heart
. stopped
shrapnel hit me 20 miles away
yet my heart surged
pumped deafening blood through me
without my consent
my passport stamped
I immigrate
to Grief
I have no travel companions
no other one-way tickets purchased
I get the window seat
New home, new key
it’s heavy
I make multiple copies at the hardware store
for closing my escape hatch
securing the fortress
road blocking familiar avenues of the mind
Immigration: movement of organisms to a specific colony.
Grief is
grey bright blinding
sunshine is out of place
geese fly overhead
I plead
take me with you
street corners, city blocks, times of day:
threatening in Grief
I never used to fear going anywhere
but in Grief, I invest in new armor
learn the new language
catch phrase: I’m fine, how are you?
convoluted explanation: yes I believe his death is my fault and I will continue to believe that until I don’t believe that anymore
morning confirmation: I wake up feeling I will die not because I want to but that the act of being awake will certainly kill me.
Grief is shadow
don’t go too close to the windows
I breathe no…
say yes to yourself, I’m told
feel your feet on the ground
soil used to provide me
support nourishment depth
for my roots
in Grief, the soil is simply dirt
it makes a mess
I’m told
the key to my new home can spark synapses
crack open rusted gates
puncture the lock on my magnificent heart.
I breathe how….
Immigration: increase can strengthen a colony.
I know there are other immigrants in Grief
heroin has leveled
entire neighborhoods
survivors are left picking up pieces
syringes questions regrets
I have a choice
even when it feels like life
or the lack of it
is happening to me
I know
I have a choice
opportunity for roots
some where on an avenue I haven’t walked yet
from a reflection of me I haven’t met yet:
I hope I lose my key
I hope I exit the back door
into Grief
unmoored
not looking back
my pocket empty
If I forget my key
on the kitchen counter
I could be a neighbor
instead of a suspicious stranger
I won’t have to depend on the turning
and the waiting
and the click
I could walk right in where I was left
every time
I left myself behind
I would be there unlocked
password saved
broken
an unprotected
space
surrender
because Grief is
nothing but space
the void
between me and the no
one
where once
there was someone
