I wanted to cry out with her -
I wanted to cry out with her in anguish and mournful regret -
I wanted to cry out with her in
pain and grief rendering my face to melted wax.
I wanted to cry out with her and fall to the ground choking and gasping for breath -
I wanted to cry out with her to give validation to what she was feeling; to guide her to do it without concern for memory or appearance; to do for her what I should have done for myself -
What I wished someone had done for me -
What should be done to leave a mark, a scar, a pin in the moment when.
But I did nothing
I listened and consoled, composed and civilized -
I behaved in the manner the world expects people to do -
Sanitized and controlled in the moment with all the emotion one puts into burning a roasted chicken -
But even burning a roasted chicken I have done with more woe.
What does it mean to mourn and to whom or what should it be bestowed?
If done correctly, it is to feel an immense emptiness; a giant void or hole in one's body -
A floating head, dangling arms and legs attached to the outline of a skeleton should be all that's left when you're done
And even the parts left should be permanently altered; weak, heavy, limp.
It should be seen as honorable, almost ceremonious, revered and sanctified -
And the crying should be guttural and primal until it heats the body with every nerve stinging and awakening from its autonomic mode.
For it is the soul that must be allowed to acknowledge the loss - if only for a moment - overriding the brain to pay its tribute for the life unlived; dreams unimagined; opportunities untaken; love unfelt.
--Delia B., Adult