Questions…answers?

It’s grief I speak
Laying the wreath
On grave, bereaved
Is it? Grief?
The mind speaks

Or is it guilt?
Hiding underneath
In rose petals you leave,
In tears you weep,

It can’t be, I speak,
Why guilt, not grief?
It has to be…
Right? I plead…

Maybe it is
Or maybe you reminisce
Months of absences
Her questions
Reaching you…
Yet
Meeting radio silences…

You tell me
It is grief…
Then why visit every day?
What are you
Trying to compensate?
Lost time?
Or the days
She called and you
Didn’t sway?

No. It is grief…
It has to be,
I ain’t guilty.
It has to be…

Maybe it is…
Who are we to know?
Guilty or grieving?
Showing up
When there’s no one
To talk to…

Where were you
When her words called you?
Why show up now?
With hollowed words,
Dead silences…

You grieve — 
And rightly so — 
But guilt
Makes you appear
Here, in front
Of her,
After absences
On her calls…

Trying to find
Her in her grave
But still afraid
To enter the place
Where she used to pray

It’s grief, guilt, fear…
Who are we to say?
But everything is red
After that one person
Went far away…

© Syed Ahrar Ali, 2024

It’s Grief, Isn’t It? was originally published in Scribe on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

This grief is always there; unlike you
I wish you could trade places,
I wish you could…

But it ain’t that simple, right?
Trade places; my grief and you

I am still stuck with it,
And not you

So this is what I do,
I take this grief with me,
Wherever I go

It walks with me, runs,
And rides the bike

I take this grief with me,
To your grave,
I take it, hoping to leave it there

Yet, it clings to me,
Like a scared little bear

So, I take it back,
Nurturing this grief,
Letting it grow

Because grief is something,
That I could never let go…

© Syed Ahrar Ali, 2024

My Grief and You… was originally published in Scribe on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.