[Poetry] “For Grandpa: Sense”

For 할아버지 & my grieving heart

I want things to make sense –
time and air and heartbeats and skies.
I want hours to be hours, days to be days and
I want to breathe without the sting of loss and
I want heartbeats to be reliable and
I want the skies to be less blue when I only see dark clouds.
I want things to make sense –
space and laughter and food and sleep.
I want to understand how people can be here and then not and
I want to know where laughter comes from when you are also grieving and
I want my appetite back, not just hunger and
I want to know how one person awakes and another never does again.

Things have stopped making sense.

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