It does not belong at the dinner table
It does not leave room for clarity
It does not listen to logic
They say grief comes in waves
For the crabs and seagulls
Waves do not take sandcastles into account
When they rush in and out
They wash away the castles cleanly
Leaving no trace of the home that was there
They dampen the feet of the castles
And no matter how much you try
To fix the castle and restore it
No matter how much you scream
“No! Stop that! That’s our home!”
Because grief is not neat
Grief does not have order
Grief does not leave room for clarity
Grief does not listen to the screams
They say grief comes in waves
That break the pretty seashells
Shells too brittle to withstand
The strength of the ocean
And even rocks and glass and wood
The waves force them into unrecognisable shapes
That look smooth and perfect
Like they could sit at the dinner table
And no rock or glass or wood or pretty seashells
Can ever be the same after the waves
But waves do not take into account
What the rocks and glass and wood and pretty seashells want
Because grief is not neat
Grief does not have order
Grief does not leave room for clarity
Grief does not listen to what you want
Scribbling over white pages
Until no more white is there
Ink spilling over the pages onto the dinner table
Until the walls of the dining room are black
And paint and tablecloths can go on top
The black that stains the dining room walls
The black stays even when we remember our manners
Even when we use the right spoons
Even when we stay inside the lines
Because grief is not neat
Grief does not have order
Grief does not leave room for clarity
Grief does not listen to the lines
A tap that does not stop flowing
You can try and try to turn it off
But drops will always leak through
And no matter how many cups you place in the sink
You can never contain the water
The water splishes and sploshes
And the cups overfill and you put another cup there
But the tap is quicker than you can ever be
Because grief does not get tired
Grief does not have order
Grief does not leave room for clarity
Grief does not listen to capacity
No matter how good you are at
Following the rules and eating at the dinner table
No matter how good you get at
Containing the waves the ink the water
Because the waves never stop coming
The pen never stops spilling
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