ADHD Dribblings: Poems & Thoughts From A Mind Lost In Motion

Do you grieve the living or the dead?

I was once told that I grieve the living
Like others grieve the dead,
And it hit me as I reflect
On any funeral I'd attend.

I was always the giggle,
Everyone's last laugh.
They'd cry and I'd smile,
And they'd crack one back.

Because I know,
though I hold no religion,
That the dead, though deceased,
have not ceased to last,
As we'll now only view them
through rose-colored glass.

What's passed is past
And logged in our memories,
As fragmented histories
Of what's deemed remembering.
Endless energy.

And there is little pain
when those memories fade,
Because pain fades with it,
As the healing takes place.
But the living don't get that grace.

They can be loved one day,
And not the next all the same.
And moved on from,
As living pulls us away.

And I grieve every time a love is let go,
When living is all we have to behold.
How to love one day and not the next
Is living life's tragedy at best.

And perhaps it's with envy,
My view of the dead.
As the dead shall remain
In my heart, in my head.

And our opinions of them
dare not change,
Unless to forgive
For our own living's sake.

We keep living close
But we keep the dead closer,
Locked up in boxes
and vases on mantels.
Permanent stones
Carved with love's initials.
Cleaned every week
And cleared of any thistle.

But I never had a love
etched or proclaimed,
Not by any oath
That included my name,

Not on thin metal bands
On any one's ring,
Not on a tree
So it'd grow endlessly,
Not painted in skies,
For all below to see.
Not anywhere to last
In anyone's memory.

But carved into stone,
As we laid it to rest.
The death of love
is what I detest,
But, it would seem,
Is what I do best.

Maybe we changed
And did so independently,
All I know is it's not long
Before death notes come
for you and for me.

And every time
I watch my love slowly die,
I weep and I fight,
Scream, "I still want to try!"

And so I must learn
Thanks to great grieving's griever,
How to not hold on
To the love of a leaver.

How living for love,
Has left living for dead.
How to change death's notes
In its song in my head.
And maybe I, too,
Can undread the undead.

I must learn to view love
As I view those who passed-
What's passed has past,
As we all expire,
And the flames of each love
Can grow ever higher.
Higher than the love of the fire.
And still such heights surpass
the love of the last.
So, I must thank you, again,
for your rose-colored glass.

11/25/21