Grief is a Mouse —
I spoke with her on the phone today
She says her eyesight has nearly gone.
Her words dart furtively like a mouse
from past to present and back again
or a restless cat, left too many
Hours on her own. I hold her secret.
All too familiar, that shameful secret
Betrayals past, recounted today
Complaints and reprisals are so many
that the time for reconciliation seems gone
But we choose to sit together again
We, the children of this sightless mouse.
And we must make amends with our mouse.
and dull the blades of our own secrets
For all those years never to see again
to tender her comfort for today
Setting a space before she’s gone
Though sorrows and injuries are many
Gentle recollections of many
more, extend compassion to the mouse
The heat of the anger, dissipated. gone
Relinquish to posterity the old secret
We reach to embrace and sooth her today
Until that old anguish rises again
That longing to rehash misdeeds again
Betrayals, transgressions far too many
to catalogue and grapple with today
A lifetime spent avoiding the mouse
Exposing and repressing the same secret
Is the time for reparations now gone?
And if all good chances are gone
And forgiveness left at the roadside again
Do we once more? Put aside our secret?
The desertions, frivolities, weaved within many
True sad stories carried for the mouse
As her darting eyes go dark today
Her threat has gone; wearied by so many
Returnings. Again, we return our hearts to the mouse.
Swallowing her secrets, we speak only of today