Loss was found

You would have thought with something missing,

things would feel lighter.

I mean, yes, I lost weight,

But I had more on my mind.

You would never have seen me leaving my house

without my headphones on.

Because I knew only music could drown out 

the wind whispering your name. 

And I didn’t want to hear it.

In every 'how have you been?' and 'how is everything going?',

I experimented with how far I could stretch my answer from reality.

I didn’t want to say my time was being taken up attending

the same funeral of us, a hundred times a day.

That I was and still was the only visitor.

I kept people at a distance, 

I didn’t want anyone too close.

Because I didn’t want people to catch

the smell of death from my clothes.

There were two of us but only one was mourning.

Each morning, I awoke in a cemetery,

trying to bury all of the 'what ifs' under the surface.

But every tear I shed watered the dead.

into full bloom and more grief resurfaced. 

So I tried sowing new seeds. I really did.

Wishing for a new garden to grow.

I would stand there weeping into my watering can.

But I realised my watering can can’t

grow miracles, though.

I thought I could gain muscle trying to bench my thoughts.

But the only thing I strengthened was my muscle memory.

I could lift ten extra kilograms at the gym much easier. 

Because nothing was heavier than my thoughts.

To lighten my load I was told to focus on myself so

I would race laps in the park every day by myself.

And I would still come second.

I was doing everything I could,

But I could never outrun my grief.

And it brought me no relief to see

The seesaw we used to play on and so perfectly balance.

I should have known you were leaving forever

because your absence nailed my side so far into the ground.

I was so low I could only look upwards.

You were so high, you didn’t look down.

Or once, when you did, you couldn’t hide your smile from the sky. 

I didn’t need to be reminded that you were doing better without me.

So I unsynced our pictures from the cloud.

But it still rained and it poured.

I stopped using umbrellas because

the rain followed me closer

than my own shadow did.

So I unfollowed joy and love on social media. 

I would scroll past happiness and delight.

I would double tap on sorrow

I would refresh but be stuck on

the same loading screen every night.

And I’m silly in that I would fall asleep

watching it load only to wake up to

“page still not found”.

You would think with something missing,

things would feel lighter.

I mean, yes, I lost weight.

But I had more on my mind.

by Kavita K. Hansla

Watch Kavita’s reading here.

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As this letter of autumn leaves