Tuesday, May 28, 2013


photoart: sharon auberle

by Linda Back McKay

By now you have had a lot of practice. No art or science is perfect and that is why the art of grieving is practiced by all. This class is mandatory for matriculation into the next life, which may or may not contain grieving. Either way, you take your chances. When presented with the chance to choose nothing else, drop to your knees and lower yourself to the floor. Prostrate, let the tongues of anger and cooling sorrow wash over you in morning sunlight. After you are tired of being on the floor, pick yourself up again. Wash your hands in the bathroom sink with a strong soap that foams, you will notice, like malted milk. Above all, do not think about grieving or it will take hold of your thought and squeeze harder than you can bear. Take to clouds instead. Clouds like these, that swim above the aqua sea, skirting daytime and night time, content with their chameleon lives, neither coming nor going. Take yourself on a little journey to someplace small because big is impossible right now. Save big for when you are stronger. In your small place, watch for the smallest of things – a thimble, a fluff of dust wafting across the desk. The old quill pen that you can now imagine scratching a message to home, please await my return. Your humble servant,  

~ first published in The Wind Blows, The Ice Breaks (Nodin Press)