I. M. Danielle Legros Georges
Grief splits me: a multi-headed creature
casting in all directions for answers.
I rage and cannot understand;
Though enough to know my reach is futile,
She is beyond. It will pass; all things do.
After a meditation, I settle into a small cave
of acceptance; rain pings as I sit on a warm
radiator; the space dark and empty,
neither me per se or her,
a cave of cupped hands.