I won’t say I know how you feel
As I truly don’t,
Or that time will heal everything
For right now, it won’t.
I won’t flood you with platitudes
Because they’re never enough
For right now there’s nowhere to go
This fiercest of love.
I won’t say take up running
Or go buy a dog
Or to move on by this date
Because grieving’s a slog.
I won’t ask you to talk
When you don’t know what to say
Or incessantly ask how are you
When your days are all grey.
If you want, I’ll bake cookies
And clean up your kitchen
Or sit with you quietly
Or listen to bitching.
I will let you cry
But won’t judge if they don’t flow
I’ll try to remember anniversaries
And check-in, ‘case you’re low.
I won’t say you should be grateful
Or you shouldn’t feel that
We will laugh when you’re ready
But don’t rush, if you’re flat.
Grief is not linear
And it won’t always make sense
But know that we love you –
Your family and friends.
I write about life, love and work with bipolar. Here I share my poems, essays and musings on bipolar – including diagnosis, recovery, reframing success, pace and self-compassion.