Words Offered to the Grieving
You’ll be okay.
After the accident,
I sat on the gurney, watching
with calm detachment,
the doctor stitch
my mangled finger.
In time you will heal.
I pulled back,
cradling my bandaged hand
against my heart.
Healing is a shallow word,
a remedy for skinned knees,
torn ligaments.
You will recover.
Really?
One recovers from surgery,
the loss of an internal
organ—
a hysterectomy, a kidney
stone.
Words offered to the grieving
must be powerful . . .
immense . . .
the size of . . . a blue
whale.
I’m sorry.
Gashes can be sewn,
sutures removed, leaving
scars barely visible.
But you will remember
the throbbing,
the black spots blurring
sight—
the overwhelming need
to lie on the ground
and bleed.
Jacqueline Jules is the
author of the poetry chapbooks, Field
Trip to the Museum (Finishing Line Press) and Stronger Than Cleopatra (ELJ Publications). Her poetry has appeared
in over 120 publications including Potomac
Review, Little Patuxent Review, Arlijo, Poetic Voices Without Borders, Innisfree, Minimus, and Gargoyle. She is the author of thirty
books for young readers including Zapato
Power and Never Say a Mean Word
Again. Please visit her online at www.jacquelinejules.com
Most poignant!
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