Sugaring

Heather Carnaghan

Grief is thick and heavy.

It is tree sap,
stubbornly stuck to my hands
no matter how hard I scrub
or what chemicals I employ.

It sticks to the fibers of the rest of my life
and ruins each with its sticky blackness.

Perhaps if I face it head on,
tap it,
boil away the teary wetness,
some sugaring will take place
and I will find purpose
in my child’s death
and live again 
like in the beautiful before.