You ask me “How are you doing?”
How am I supposed to answer?
What do you expect me to say?
My standard is “Better this week than last.”
At least I didn’t cry my way home from work
each day, or fall apart at the end of the week.
I sigh a lot these days…
The sunshine and spring blooms
are almost too much to bear.
I am no stranger to hardship,
but this? It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
You tell me ”It’ll get better with time.”
Crawl inside my skin and convince me.
Carry the weight in your chest, the knot in your stomach
the catch in your throat, the hole in your heart…
till then, don’t ask me how I am doing
unless you’ve felt the same.
© GB 2021