Grief Not Shared Poem by Sally Sandler

Perhaps this grief was not meant to be shared—
not meant to be examined, or assuaged,
or black and white, like print upon a page …
not even by the ones who truly care.

In doing so, my grief is diluted
like water mixed into a vintage wine.
And who can understand this loss of mine
in truth? It's only me to whom it's suited.

I'd rather have the full experience
and suffer, if it's acid on my tongue …
and let my tears run raw, and linger long,
and the salt burn my lids, and feel intense.

I will learn to keep private, loss of love;
talk diminishes what's not understood.
Despite all those who try to do me good,
it drowns out the sweet whispers from above,

and I need to make space to feel and hear
the voice still calling me, in gentle tones,
and feel in full my hurting heart, my bones,
and wade into the water without fear.

My love has sailed this water, after all,
and I wait at the shoreline for his call.