love is blind he says
and of course he's right
blind to
suffering and
insensitive to sensitivity
wrapped up in its own self-worth
justification
explanation
rationalization not necessary for
the celebratory
reservations are made at that table
only for the bereaved
nobody wants to sit there
nobody wants to walk that path
1 who read my diary said...:
I found your blog in a really convoluted way and stumbled across your posts about grieving the loss of a child. I liked your poem. Grief seems to do mysterious work in one's soul which makes it difficult to express in direct ways to others. I could relate to your poem and thought I'd share a similar one I wrote this spring: http://thebeardsleys-stateside.blogspot.com/2011/03/threatening-stranger.html
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