Talking Away

I use to think about grief,
building loss on loss, sorrow on sorrow,
into a silent groan in my bowels
of ever churning laments
mourning for the comfort 
of  dead faces.

All the sorrow and lost infused my words. 
It leaked out to the white spaces between
unwanted vowels and syllables : 
to the house gone, parts removed,
friends lost, the broken things—
whining until my tongue said “Stop!”
 
And, the grief released beyond my deafness, 
receding to silence, a smile that said,
“Look now, laugh at this mess that is me.”