Hades

When the river burst its banks

I was busy at work.

I had meetings. Plans. I wasn’t ready.

I kicked at the floodwater with my black work shoes -

disbelieving, 

outraged at its presence.

It scurried after me

quickening

took my knees

my gut

my breath

My emotional literacy went under.

My capacity for judgement died.

I separated from all life.

When the water took all landmarks

I hung shrieking in the void

dissected by what sliced beneath the surface.

All things

meant death.

I lived in the flood for months. Forgot

there’d ever been a different state of being, 

a reprieve,

or a self 

that wasn’t drowning

The water flattened.

Endless.

No horizons.

I didn’t notice it receding

pulling back

letting me go.

I saw the shapes within it

start to show their edges,

jagged shards of shame,

clumsy chunks of grief;

I stayed close enough 

to see that they

weren’t death.

I found my emotional literacy

Sodden, draped over an old existential framework.

Slipped it back over my shoulders like a bearskin.

I tucked my shame inside my shirt

to keep it warm, 

to knead it with my heartbeat.

I saw my grief - sitting on the rocks 

down by the shoreline. We nod. 

We know each other now.

Grief rises,

hands me my work shoes

bids me good mourning

and together, 

we go about our day.