Five stages of grief
A poem about profound loss and healing.
Knowing her days were numbered but
texting one-liners instead of love letters.
Feeling the liquor burn my insides
just so her smiling face,
a smudge in a photograph,
could say, “I love you too.”
Falling to my knees in the therapist’s office,
looking to the Heavens, challenging God,
“No, you’re lying, you’re lying!”
even though I know He was not.
Longing to bury myself in her.
My screams falling on deaf ears because
she buried herself first.
Clawing at the noose around her neck
but shutting my eyes when she unravels.
Crying when I speak her name in the past tense.
Wondering through tears if it would hurt
to lose myself,
wasting away beside her.
Falling victim to my own body
lying in a puddle of my own sweat.
It only takes a few hours
to make me hate myself,
but I stay that way for weeks.
Knowing she is no longer a body, much less a life.
She is nothing but ashes
beneath the frozen earth.
Letting her memory bring me warmth and intimacy.
Saying goodbye and promising
“I won’t die young too.”
Asha Ramachandran is a junior studying journalism and Social and Cultural Analysis. They were born and raised in New England (but please don't ask about...