A Grief That Can't Be Spoken

Empty Chairs At Empty Tables

In honor of those we've lost. Illustration by Tetiana Kopytova

This child - singing as only a child can sing - has captured a feeling that I’m not sure we have words for.
It’s more than the implosion caused by a loved one’s death.
It’s hotter than the rage that flashes like wildfire
jumping the line to consume everything in its path.
It’s stronger than the mind’s disbelief and denial -
its inability to process time.
Trapped between before and after,
it spins in infinite loops,
waiting for a resolution it can live with.
A resolution that never comes.

It is our collective Self demanding to be heard - the fundamental life spark in each of us that knows these self-inflicted wounds are just that,
the agony of a race that’s lost its way,
forgotten what it came to learn and do.