Complicated grief (F43.21)

taught me to sit.
Not upright or mindfully
but however my body fell—
curled, slumped,
sideways, half-asleep.
Loss demolished monks
and mantras, leaving only
a nascent alphabet of sobs.
Grief — raw, protracted,
impenitent — ignited long-
dormant strips of genome
and many-times great-grandmothers
who rose up from light and flame
calling, heed this maelstrom.… Read more “Poetry by Amy Karon”