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The dahlias dared to bloom today
the insolent things
bright showy flowers right in front of my window
I see their sunny faces every time I walk by
The house sparrows are in on it, too
I hear the young ones chirping all day long
the parents still go out and bring back food for them
they still distract crows and scrub jays away from the nest
There’s more, too
the chickadees, the squirrels, even the peaches
is it a conspiracy?
how can they all continue as if nothing has happened?
as if you are not dead?
I need an area of scorched earth
black and cratered
so obvious that when the neighbors walk by
they stop talking
I need hushed whispers of remembrance and respect
“That’s where it happened”
I understand why some cultures grieve for a year
for sure this three-days-bereavement-leave-everyone-forgets-about-it-in-two-weeks
approach to death isn’t helping us
our hearts need more tending to heal
our fire needs more raging
We have become so inexperienced with this transition
a process older than time
everyone goes through
both as observer and as witnessed
balloons and streamers for the beginning of life
silence for the end