I used to think
that grief
was like a thief in the night.
One that came to steal,
to hollow out
each place
where the light remained.
I’ve learned
that grief
did not arrive
to take from me.
Grief arrived
to be embraced
to be held
to be accepted.
Sometimes it arrives
with a quiet knock,
I invite it in
we laugh and cry
about memories already made
and memories that won’t ever be lived.
Sometimes it arrives
banging on the door,
I invite it to sit.
We are quiet
not because there is nothing to say,
but because there is too much.
Some mornings
I find it sitting on my front porch,
a long night spent
outside
it didn’t want to disturb me.
I invite it in,
we hold tightly
to worn photos,
the warmth
of memories and time
frozen on a page.
I used to think
that grief arrived
to take from me.
Now I know
that there is space for me
at grief’s doorstep
on the front porch
on quiet and loud
mornings alike.
Some days,
I go knocking
on grief’s door,
and it invites me in.
Jenna Genevieve 