Freedom to Grieve

The warm sweet smell of a summer rose

Goes foul in too much company

My father lies in death’s repose

Well-meaning strangers come to me

The sickening scent of flowers grows

I take each breath uncomfortably

Too-long-huggers presuppose

Their touch will somehow comfort me

Wreaths and vases, chairs in rows

I did my duty gallantly

I planned and paid and stayed for those

Who need to grieve in company

To callers I will not disclose

My introvert’s reality

Upon my nature they impose

I’ll grieve my father quietly

I won’t say and no one knows

Two gifts my father gave to me

Courage to give what I oppose

Permission to live authentically