The Face of Grief

What does grief look like?

One may say tired, but
a tired face can be tired for all sorts of reasons:
A late night party, a child coughing, unpaid bills, a Netflix show,
unanswered work emails, a worry about this or that.

But grief does not sing
that kind of tired–
it is tone deaf to whatever is happening around it.

This tired starts in the toes,
grown numb from the weight
of carrying too much death.

It does not find relief
from a cup of coffee
or a cold shower.

It can not joke about its tiredness.

Grief shreds the lining around every wrinkle
on the body,
and dares its carrier
to rebuild throughout the day,
with a certainty for re-shredding
that night.

Grief pierces the soul
at the grocery store
and the post office
and talking to a neighbor
and taking out the garbage.

It neglects to even sharpen its knife,
so dull and so persistent
it pokes and mocks
and raises its hands in victory.

Grief pools blood
in the corners of mouths and knees and elbows
and underneath nail beds.

It does not look like anything you have ever seen,

except of course,
you have.

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