The following are a series of poems I wrote to accompany pictures that documented grieving. I do not know why I felt the need to take pictures of the grieving process. All I know is that loss changed me.
Jillian:
Scrolling through Instagram
by emily grace
April 24, 2018
I bought this shirt today
I saw it and I thought of you
and the days we used to sip rose.
do you remember those times
in our flimsy summer dresses
lounging on your balcony drinking pink wine?
you smoked your cigarettes
with the filters torn off
we laughed about our love regrets
it's been a while since we have spoken
years have passed since then
life as left us both a little heartbroken
you always answer when I call
you see my heart, when so few do
I’m bonded to you by more than girly alcohol
April 29, 2018
you live in the gravel ocean
American prairie is your home
steady, windblown, yet unchanging
for me, my life has stayed in motion
flitting from one place to the next
across oceans, states, and far away
in search of dreams which always break
I might be coming to you, but I won’t text
I want to surprise you when I know it's true
I am flying back from a job interview
in the land gravel, plain, and prairie
May 4, 2018 - no picture
you died today. you walked down
the basement stairs, in your flimsy
worn-out robe. I remember it was
covered in cat hair and smelled
like you. it was the early morning
hours after a night of drinking. you
came home and picked a fight with
your lover. you took the thin fabric belt
from your waist and wrapped it around a pipe and
fastened it around the neck you
were afraid was starting to show
signs of age. you put a rickety stool
under your feet and kicked it out.
the drop was short and the fabric
must have tightened, restricting your
airflow and pinching your vagus nerve.
how many minutes did you
hang there dying in pain?
did you wish you could take it back? eventually,
you gasped your last. your lips turned
a ghastly blue. he found you there
the next morning, that man that
lived with you. he screamed and
tried to bring you to life. but you
were dead beneath his hands. gone from
the land of the living.
in this anguish, nobody to knew to tell your distant friend you were gone.
I did not know that if I rang,
I would never hear your voice again.
May 8, 2018
a car full of trader joes and malaise.
I mindless browed my phone and
saw a mysterious post.
someone was wishing you well
on your journey.
had you finally had the courage to move?
more scrolling, more stories, then the pieces
came crashing down place.
I gasped in horror and told my husband
“Jillian committed suicide”
he sucked in his breath in horror
I started to cry.
my daughter asked why mommy was upset
I had no comfort to give her. at two years
of age, she watched her mother grieve.
my husband tried to quiet her and
her innocent screams anguish
rang out from the back seat
silently I sat in sorrow
mired in confusion
snuffing out
tears
may 9, 2018
“aaghh! lonely is this city that once bustled with life;
cheer is empty; like a widow, she is abandoned
and oh, so lonely.
she who was a princess, great among the nations,
as lost everything and been forced to serve as a slave.
bawling, she weeps without constraint every night,
cries herself to sleep, bitter tears streaming down her cheeks.
her former friends ignore her;
there is no one there to share her sorrow;
companions contend and have betrayed her;
friends have been unfaithful and turned against her as enemies.”
lamentations 1: 1-2 (the voice translation)
my shirt is full of lies
“grl pwr-peace sign”
the cheap fabric deceives
time has healed nothing
no one calls to comfort me
especially not her
damn my impossible hope
I do not know if her soul
has found any rest
fuck your bad theology
I know physics and I’ll deal
with quantum realities
neither dead nor alive
neither at peace nor in torment
May 10, 2018
a phone call came from the plains
I got the job. it would have brought
me closer to you. you are not
there.
so I sat numbly in this stupid blue chair
whimpering softly. smudging the makeup
I so carefully applied that morning.
I knew it was a fruitless task. I just
wanted to be human.
that night I made love just to feel
anything else. the tears feel slowly
on the pillow and he held me close.
then I slept, dreading waking up.
more picture of grief and a flight out west
May 11, 2018
May 12, 2018
May 13, 2018
May 16, 2018
I know how to fake structure
I have reached this juncture
where I’ll ignore my heart rupture
I returned on a jet plane from the west
I know not mourning is not best
I will go forward and feel this regret
knowing my needs to be held are not met
breath and let a shadow cast on my face
I’ll go home and close the car door in its place
swallow and refuse the tears to stain my face
May 5, 2019
one
(breath)
year
(breath)
later
(breath)
26.2
(breath)
I ran
(breath)
still
(breath)
no
(breath)
sobs
(breath)
Was I the friend to you that were to me?
