The Doorway

A poem

I started writing this poem last month, on Toby’s death anniversary. I can still feel the pinch in my back from spending weeks bent over the keyboard, trying to get it “right” (as if there’s such a thing). This poem and I have been stuck inside a jar together, and I felt I couldn’t climb out until it was finished. Just when it seemed all the air was used up and there was nothing left, something would shift, and I’d find that there was one more breath, one more gasp after all.

I’ve decided to share this poem as an image to preserve the enjambment (line breaks).

I really did meet Toby in a doorway. We really did almost physically bump into each other. Maybe it’s the poet in me who sees the symbolism of a chance meeting in a doorway, maybe it’s grief recasting the moment as something other than what it was, but something about it has always felt otherworldly. Anyway, this poem is about many things, but if I had to put it into one sentence, I’d say it’s about how, in the wake of immense loss, we tend to circle our old life, looking for a way to re-enter things as they once were.

(If you liked this poem, you might like Bright and Electric.)

Grief Casseroles is 100% human. I do not use AI.

*Cover photo by Cynthia Magana via Unsplash