Having Coffee with an Elephant
a poem about grief
Everyone handles grief differently. Some seek companionship, others need alone time. Some grieve loudly, some silently. Some move on quickly, and for some the wound never fully closes over. Which way is right? Which way is wrong? All of the above, and none of the above.
This poem is about how one couple handled grief of death, for better or worse. I’ll dedicate it to those I’ve lost the last few years—three women, three mothers who made indelible marks on me. You are missed and loved and remembered!
Having Coffee with an Elephant
i
After the viewing, she spent days
hiding her heart in her eyes.
They were mute
as I searched every room
for an elephant.
It was behind the lamp stand, maybe
under the fridge.
ii
The lake conversed only with my oars,
sharing nothing. I waited
for rain, and when it came,
I didn't drown.
Mountains make
for early sunsets and a
sudden ledge of light.
We fell off it, all of us,
into the night.
iii
She folded the towels and lined them
in neat little stacks
beside me on the couch.
As the towers of linen grew,
only a hand appeared
to lay another brick and build
a cotton wall between us.
I didn't dare get up, fearing
the instability of cushions and how
the wall might topple.
iv
Mornings, I'll brush my hand across her head
as she sits not eating, listening
to the sound of coffee.
"I know," she'll say, not looking
at her nails. I sit beside her,
unknowing, waiting
for the percolate.
Thoughts? Share them here! And don’t forget to share with others as well!
❤❤❤