Fine, Thank You

"How are you," you ask in greeting,

not really wanting an answer

I beat my chest in response

tear my hair and wail

"I am so very sad"

I respond to your surprised look.

I am not afraid to grieve

I am not afraid to weep

rocking in front of the wood stove

convulsed by tears.

I am not afraid to tell you of my loss

how two weeks ago

my love expanded beyond

the bounds of our universe

I am not afraid to chant

out loud in remembrance

words cobbled together to

Ganesha and Guan Yin

I am not afraid of inhabiting my anguish

I am not afraid to tell stories of the dead

I am not afraid to spin my weakness

into words

But you look uncomfortable.

Does my grief offend you?

Would you rather, when asked, that I respond

"Fine, thank you, and you?"