Our bodies have evolved
so beautifully,
those miraculous thumbs,
that swaying spine,
but how is it
that in all that
adapting,
advancing,
surviving,
I am left with
no organ to bear
the great sadness
of being human?
Grief crawls through
my veins, searching
for the place it will be
digested,
held,
converted
into some other energy,
exhaled or absorbed.
It presses at my throat,
writhes through my skull,
slides around my lungs,
leaving me voiceless
unbalanced
suffocating.
My body has failed me,
left me with no
organic capacity
for these great
sadnesses.