when I open books
on grief
on living beyond loss*
on the wild edge of sorrow*
I find parts of me in every chapter
living with losses
perforated with wild edges
I can call some by name now
traumatic loss
sudden loss
anticipatory loss
ambiguous loss
unacknowledged and stigmatized loss
unspeakable loss
the invisible loss of absence
each one
a chasm
in my heart

where does the immensity
of a mother’s love go
when children are estranged?
does it surround her aura,
a throbbing, aching hum?
does her love multiply,
devouring her from the inside?
does it radiate off of her,
a searing heat?

how does a mother channel her infinite love in times of disconnection?
sing it to the moon?
keen, weep, and shed it each night?
bury it under every cedar tree?
rub it into her lovers’ skin?
light in on fire to signal a rising?
store its nectar away for their return?
apply it to her own heart, making medicine of the pain?

*I make reference to the following two books on loss and grief:
Living Beyond Loss, Edited by Froma Walsh & Monica McGoldrick
The Wild Edge, of Sorrow by Frances Weller

**If you are viewing this on a smartphone, line breaks may not be accurate and this may impact your reading experience.