Exhibit G

My grief is not an exhibit.
It is not a pain
to be cut out,
removed,
and viewed in speculation.
It is not a tumour
to be dissected,
sliced,
and examined in detail.
It is not an organ
to be discussed,
preserved,
and labelled in formaldehyde.
My grief is real yet abstract.
My grief is deep yet superficial.
My grief is close yet distant.
My grief is quiet yet reverberates.
My grief belongs to me;
I own it.