as a child, I often considered where to place my grief
if I buried it deep in the ground, I feared what might arise in season
a poisonous plant, a nest of spiders, a revenant with sightless eyes
if I threw it into the sea, I knew it would wash ashore somewhere
a killing algal bloom, a stinging jelly, a jagged sharp of broken glass
if I sent it upward into the sky, I thought of all that could already destroy
a hurricane, a flooding rain, toxic smoke from nearby mills
and could not add to these because I knew what it was not to be able to breathe
in the end I decided best to keep my sorrow and make it a friend
the world had woe enough
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