Grief, by Gaby Cicerini

A poem by Gaby Cicerini

The sky is elusive to everyone but the embers that crackle into black space that we cannot reach.

Orange and red alleviate the blue, like the ocean on fire, captive to the flame. My mind sticks to the stars above the chaos.

Some clogs the fabric of fragile lawn chairs as the oozing sugar drips from my stick to the unfolded seat. Perhaps I would have been more careful if I only knew the dying fire wouldn’t blaze again.

The air housed more than the smothering smell of stogies smacking my face with every breath. Luke Combs on the Bluetooth spoke to a family that wasn’t mine, but they were all I had Today I would welcome it.

My own thoughts intrude the safety of my mind, An infiltrated home once sacred, now cold, collecting wishes to go back to the stars. Naivete in underappreciating the glowing flames, now gone into the brisk air.

Perhaps life after loss doesn’t heal, just becomes more distant like the embers fading away.