The Cracks Of Grief Poem by Sheena Blackhall

The Minneapolis Star pulled no punches
John Berryman jumped from a bridge
Landed, a dead weight, on the bank of the Mississippi

In the land of jacarandas in Messolonghi, Greece,
Byron suffered a lingering death by healthcare
Leeches, opium, mustard blisters, the works
Strips of his skin, preserved as poetic relics

In the worst winter for years
Plath wrote 13 poems in 8 brief weeks
Lay down like a lamb in a top floor flat
In Primrose hill, breathed in the Lion, Death

Anne Sexton lunched with a friend,
Chit chat about writing and such
Then home to Black Oak Road
Into the garage, switched on the Mercury Cougar
She went out in style, ringless, wearing a fur coat
Glass of vodka in hand, toasting the Grim Reaper

Peacefully/ Suddenly/ Bravely
After a long/short struggle
The dead are written off
And after, in the columns of the press
The poems of ordinary folk, remembering.
Their healing rhymes that mend the cracks of grief