permission
a poem about the size of grief you’re allowed to feel
love, after it’s gone, in all of its shapes and sizes, remains as grief. and since that is so, grief like love, must come in all shapes and sizes too.
catastrophic grief was once catastrophic love. earth shattering, foundational, an entire change of landscape. persistent grief was persistent love. structural and significantly present. and small-scale grief was once small-scale love. an itsy-bitsy sanctuary. grief mirrors love in every dimension.
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we do ourselves a disservice reserving the permission of grief only for catastrophe. love is proportionally transformed into grief, and if love is real at every size, the grief that follows, the one that was made from it, is too.
x EVIE
started this poem during national poetry writing month and after months of word smithing, it’s finally complete!!! 🥹 I’m learning that I’m allowed to feel grief for things beyond catastrophe. that it’s healthier than keeping all of that aching pent up inside of me. I used to feel silly about it. about grieving small things like losing my ability to wear heels or to drive or to run, or moving out of my apartment in New York City (leaving nyc altogether). the fact that if I have a wedding celebration or a kid my grandmother probably won’t remember. for medium sized loss like losing the middle chunk of my 20s (from 23–28) fighting for survival — for my vision to come back, my ankle to heal so I could be mobile again. for complicated grief that I felt I wasnt allowed to feel: the death of a mutual online friend whom I’ve never met in person, that of a high school friend who I hadn’t talked to in over 10 years. but I am, I am, and you are too. if grief is proof of where love once lived than any sized grief is valid. is real. this is your permission to feel what you need to feel. to grieve a loss that feels heavy, even if it was only the absence of a small comfort, even if it’s only you who understands it🫶🏼
