Three Years
Composure seems like fakery designed to trick our souls
out of feeling. But the blatant fact remains:
grief is inconvenient
and consumes precious hours
that would be better spent
in the employ of reason or menial errands
– or so my mind tries to say.
There were days when I had no desire
to physically move or eat;
showering seemed ridiculous.
I recall trying to write
thank you cards in response to
commiserations that themselves were
both galling and earnest.
We are so sorry for your loss, they read
Please let us know if there’s anything we can do.
I don’t believe I ever posted my replies.
I don’t believe I ever finished them, either.
But this is a response, in a way.
And after three years, I guess it was due.
Ronald Browne, dad
18-8-49 – 19-2-09
