Grief Writing

“No one told me there would be so many wires, tangled wires to drivers, drips and drugs,  to my love. Precarious wires that so easily disconnect, separate us. Nobody told me it would be the stairs that defeated you. The stairs that also finish me off daily. So many forgotten things are down those fucking stairs, our old familiar life, sugar, tablets, phone. As I reach the top she says…“just a drop of extra milk love  …down I go. And then up again just as the doorbell rings. I descend to let the angels sweep in, blue uniformed scouse sistas, wisdom holders, grounded goddesses, soothing soothsayers who never seem to have a day off. They fix the tangled wires and soothe the raw of the night before. I cry in the garden out of earshot. Salt water the flowers. No one told me I am strong as the fucking sea .….”

— Clare Beloved