Grief

By Nancy Lynée Woo
For Markus

The ones on the outside say
sit down, have some tea
take a lesson from this—
but none of it makes sense when
the pounding rhythm of
How can it be pulses
endlessly in my head.

There is no reason in grief.

The body evaporates into
a bristle of pinecones
the mind into a waterfall of why
and the soul keeps booming out
to touch his presence
anywhere.

The body of grief knows no hunger
but starves en masse
with all those who are grieving.

One light goes out and a million
more flock toward what is left.
We are clawing at the void.
No words of advice will do.
Do not try and tell me what next.

Do not try and tell me how
to undo this knot—
there is no key. Just hug
and share your light with me.