Grief Unmeasured
I measure every grief I meet—
knowingly, they’re all related to me.
Some smaller, some larger,
but all carry weight.
Yesterday, a friend’s text arrived:
“Her daughter was shot in the head.”
The words formed a puzzle I needed to unravel:
What, why, where?
I kept asking.
Death came too soon for this young woman.
My thoughts turned to my own children—
why must mothers...
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