Grief's Language

Dara Barnat

          To escape the deaths strewn
about life, I packed my things

and moved to another country, learned  
a new language, hid  

in cafes, where I wouldn’t be
recognized in a crowd.

          But grief slips
easily across borders, between

countries and languages.
There grief was, tapping me

on the shoulder, greeting me
in Hebrew, Shalom.       

          I could no longer
disguise myself or beg grief to stop

following me. I’ve started
speaking to grief in every

language possible. Sometimes
we end up laughing.