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THE GRIEF BEYOND LANGUAGE
Lives somewhere words cannot reach.
Below the sentences.
Below every attempt
to put shape around
what this actually is.
People ask how l am doing.
And l open my mouth.
And what comes out
is always smaller than what I meant.
Because language was built
for ordinary distances.
And what I carry
is not an ordinary distance.
It is the whole space
between who I was with you
and who I am without you.
And there is no word that wide.
