Black Hole

A poetry reading

I wrote this poem about the grief I met after losing someone very close to me in death, unexpectedly. It attempts to capture what is felt in the body, and how it learns to carry it.

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It hurts in places

I never knew existed.

Like how my fingertips ache,

and a mournful scream

lives in the back of my throat.

. .

There is a black hole

where my heart once lived,

dense and ravenous,

swallowing light,

devouring warmth,

collapsing joy

into nothing.

. .

Some days,

the void feels large enough

to consume me,

completely.

. .

But still,

I wake.

Still,

I breathe.

. .

And somehow,

without noticing,

I’ve grown strong enough

to carry it.

Not because the pain has lessened,

but because it’s changing me.

. .

Sometimes,

the pain wants to cry out

I love you

loud enough

to reach you.

. .

But those words

would fall into a silence

you no longer fill.

. .

I wish I’d said them

a thousand more times

when they still had

somewhere to land.

. .

I wish I could say

I love you

instead of

I loved you.

. .

But if this grief

is just love

with no place to go,

I will ache

in all these new and strange places.

Willingly.

. .

And I will wake up every day,

and breathe, one breath at a time.

. .

Because this pain

is simply love,

wearing a different skin.

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