Stages of Grief by Joan Leotta

​Stages of Grief
 
The first week
My world is spinning
"That's nothing, the world always spins,"
 they tell me.
"They" always know best.
Their world is fixed
on its axis, firm and sure
Mine has lost its axis,
whirling and twirling
out into space,
out of control.
I am oblivious to all but my loss.
Three months after
I am quiet
when I used to laugh
Sad
when I used to be pensive
Still awake
Late into the night
Talking to a picture,
Instead of
Chatting with my son.
Angry he has left us,
Bereft.
After a year
Words begin
 to make sense again
when I lay them out on paper.
I have forgiven my dear son
for leaving us, although
my heart still clenches at
when I think I see him somewhere.
His things are packed.
Some given away.
Little bits of rock
and shell and more,
festoon the shelf
by his photo--
Offerings to show I'm thinking
of him on beach walks
forest treks or in new cities.
I hang his stocking up at Christmas
and fill it with a letter.
One plus one
Makes 11.
Two years later, I
remember
this joke between us,
we two who hated math.
I unpack his journals.
It's time to write about him,
and share his thoughts
with the world.
I am compelled to
speak his name,
loudly and
in print
wherever possible,
So he will never
be forgotten.
Never.
Joe.
 

*Stages of Grief was first published by When Women Waken, 2013

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Joan Leotta is a writer and story performer who loves playing with words on page and stage. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Silver Birch, Hobart, Fourth River, Pinesong, When Women Write, The Ekphrastic Review. Her essays, articles, and short stories are also widely published. She has been a featured performer in many festivals , libraries, museums, and fairs telling tales of food, family, and strong women form her own life and in folklore. Her first chapbook of poems, Languid Lusciousness with Lemon, is out from Finishing Line Press. When she is not writing or performing you can find her walking the beach hunting for seashells.

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