A Man's Grief

A man’s grief is
somehow different.
It starts from separation.

He is not the same as
all other things. He really
does not feel like an ocean
or a great body of water.

There is a difference.

He is not the same as the
mother who gave
him all that he became. From
the start he knows he is the
OTHER.

He is not the same
as all other things. This makes
a man stand one step back.
This is his grieving. Not as close
to it, to anything, as he
might imagine he could be.

There is a hole in him,
in man. It is there to
mimic the womb. But it
is bottomless.

This hole drops endlessly down.
A man falls into this hole – this
hole of his - at some point.

When he is
not really looking.

Maybe he can fill the hole,
by screwing everything
in sight, by taking control
over all that he can touch.
Maybe if he fills other things
with himself, he will somehow
fill the emptiness of the hole.

Standing,
one step back,
he can only approach
the edge
so far.

There he stands,
feet firmly planted on the
ground, staring into the sea.

The endless sea.

Grieving.

And that day
is the day the hole is filled
the day that he is
able to move forward.

And,
stand apart no more.