I went out to lunch with my grief
and she was a year late.
when she finally walked in the door
the whole room stood at attention—
even the sunlight cast through the window.
she was not covered in a shroud
or head to toe in funeral black
rather she wore the same clothes as me
without regard for faux pas
and sighed as she slipped into her seat.
she only ordered jasmine green tea
and when she was done speaking
she simply stared at me,
brown eyes coals with paragraphs
simmering yet she said nothing.
For the first time,
I met her gaze.
⠀
I went out to dinner with my grief
and she was already there waiting for me.
quiet buoying between us
we sat on a building’s ledge
traffic crawling like ants
on the ground below,
hundreds of lives too far to touch,
leaving us behind, suspended.
we ate only bread, the kind
that goes bad after a day
if you don’t savor it
and gave the leftovers to the birds
that refused to take me with them.
hands were on my back
and I never knew if she wanted
to push me or keep me tethered.
About the Creator
R.C. Taylor
I write to invoke, to process, to honor, to resurrect, and—sometimes—to grieve but, above all, I write to be free.
Follow along for stories about a little bit of everything (i.e. nostalgia and other affairs of the heart).
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme
Expert insights and opinions
Arguments were carefully researched and presented
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Masterful proofreading
Zero grammar & spelling mistakes
Keep reading
More stories from R.C. Taylor and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments (27)
Wooohooooo congratulations on your honourable mention! 🎉💖🎊🎉💖🎊
Congratulations on your placement and the TS! 🎉🎉
Wow, just wow. Really great...Congrats on Top Story!
Congrats on TS!
Wooohooooo congratulations on your Leaderboard placement! 🎉💖🎊🎉💖🎊
Great work, I am compel by my heart to like it..
wow, this is beautifully written. Really powerful work and a great read!
This is amazing, I love the first lines in particular,
WOW Amazing poem....
Fabulous ♦️♦️♦️
And congratulations on Top Story. 🎉
As someone who is going through grief, this was touchy, emotional, very emotional, and powerful. And emotional again.
I love this so much! Mine from a few months back stands pale in comparison (https://shopping-feedback.today/poets/tea-with-an-old-friend%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/a%3E%29 - your rendering of grief captures all the nuances so perfectly. My favorite is the last two lines " and I never knew if she wanted to push me or keep me tethered." Perfection!
what a masterpiece - grief knows no timeline. even when you think you might get past it, often it jumps in front of you, saying, "have you forgotten?" then the healing begins again. GREAT WORK and well deserving of TS.
So rich, profound, real, heavy... This is a masterwork, R.C. - I enjoy using that word, but I don't use it lightly here. This is a poem that will remain with me. Thank you very much for sharing this work!
Good
Grief. So many emotions and definitions that take a lifetime to befriend
Hey I'm new here please support me ...thanks
As someone who has lost someone recently, the first sentence already hits hard. Grief is timeless I guess… I very much like the way you put it in words, touching piece!
reading this while having to see lose someone you loved dearly is hard. I guess love isn't enough
Hey I'm new here please support me
The way how you see love and feel it is brilliant. I subscribed you to give my support and I welcome you to read my ones too 🥰!
Good
This is so poignant and real. I love that you speak to the delayed onset, to the feeling of separateness from the world, the birds—the hope—refusing to take the narrator with them, and the question, isn't it always, of whether we are being held back by the density of the thing or moved through it to something fuller? Oof. The kind of truth that comes from lived experience. Love to you, poet ❤️
Congrats on your top story! You captured grief with such quiet power and grace. Well done.