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THE LANGUAGE OF GRIEF

There’s something moist about darkness,
about loneliness, about mirror and a standing body
looking at its hollowed self
                    a sin—a whisper to nothingness
                    a difficult word—gloominess

Emptiness has built a nest in my body
and the moist from these bleary weary eyes
runs deeper than the Nile to nowhereness

A lot weighs on this body
so many I’ve buried trying to be strong
sometimes I see fog finding its ways
in the space of my mind
and I fight it with a silent grief

There’re days filled with dark gaps of time
days I’d said “I’m fine” amidst tears no one could see
days I’d turn my tears to joy, to laughter, to smile
only because they expect it from me

Tears is the language of grief,
a home I retreat
to commune with my mind
It doesn’t kill—it draws one closer to the grave.

There’s something crawling about darkness,
about loneliness, about mirror, and a standing body
looking at its hollowed self
                    avoid it
                    if you’re weak at heart.

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Poems © Okoli Stephen
Image by Annalise Batista from Pixabay (modified)