Death in all Families

 When my father died,
 I hid.

 I had nothing to say,
 nothing to add
 to his brutal labor of dying.

 When grief finally came,
 she gave me unanswerable questions.
 She had me worry
 about the things he'd left me.

 The things I'd never give back.

 And now I wonder,
 where do you go
 when the world dies?
 Where do you leave your questions?
 What do you do with your grief?