How to Help (a work in progress, like us all)

How to Help

Come sit with me; I’ve saved a seat.

There’s room for you inside my grief.

In here the air is thick and full,

A dream deferred, pressed to the hull;

A seed that sprouts long choking fingers,

Unless a friend sometimes will linger.

I realize that the hull is cracked.

Don’t try to mend or glue it back.

It needs the gashes and the gaps

To let in light and gulp in gasps

Of air, which pushes out despair.

The light shows how to look, and where.

It’s changing through the glass half-dark,

From seed to stem, from gash to scar.

Just sit with me in what’s been sewn;

Feel how the blades are being honed.

My love is here, eyes wasted thin,

Waking each day to try again.

Each time I sigh, it’s him who says,

“Intentámos, otra vez.”

My daughter’s here, violently torn;

Groaning, bitter, prone to mourn.

Don’t speak to her with sweet-sick pity.

She’s fortified, bloodchild of my city.

My son is here, in my same seat.

He waits where palms and knees all meet.

His cry is silent, pangs unknown.

Please see him! He feels so alone.

Two others huddle in my grief.

They’re looking for their own relief.

My little blessings, late brought home,
Whose battle cries and midnight moans

Planted the hurt that germinates.

Soul-weighted, weary; thus, we wait.

Come back again and sit tomorrow.

Breathe deep the scent of tasteless sorrow.

Don’t give advice or promise, “after.”

I need sadness more than laughter.

Sit and wait; no pep talk, please.

The silence sets my soul at ease.

No platitudes or Bible verses.

No spoken blessings or quiet curses.

I know you want to make it better,

But that’s not why we’re here, together.

Sit still with me; let’s both be mired,

Silently. Heart-sick, bone-tired.

Nod and acknowledge what has died,

And just, for now, be by my side.