詩 Loss

The wellspring of grief
Comes not from realizing
That the beloved is not coming
Being told they are gone

But the denied relief
Searching the crowd
Wondering in panic
If you've forgotten their face
Running toward them before
You've really even seen them

That sense of release
Lungs bursting from running
Breath held underwater
Then, when you can go no further
Being told it is not over

Like a stone in a brook
We step blithely, but
Our rock is not there
We did not think we would
Fall. We are not ready

That trying to remember
The last time you made love
Grieving that at the time
You did not know
That there would be
No more after that