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I lived with my grief for too long until I knew every face it once wore
Be it the visage of a friend I once had but time has taken away or the face of a savior I once thought would be my salvation
I lived with my grief and the soul-wrenching lashes it brings to my body —I know enough of grief until I knew every expression
Be it the smile of a loved one I'll never be able to see again or the grimace of a lover in pain because of unresolved trauma
I lived with grief enough to know when it would hit me and when I would meet it at a crossroad —I know it too well— as every path wounds and departs from the same bend where its house stood
I lived with grief long enough to have it paint my walls with faces of people I thought I knew with my heart and the culture I wanted to cherish but is tainted with history of blood and gore
I lived with grief—for too long and too much—that I know where and when I would fall and how it would devour me
