I know it seems strange for someone to grieve the death of someone they’ve never met.
It definitely feels strange to me.
I guess I felt I got to know the essence of her through her work. Through expressing the hard time she had, she got a lot of people to use their time thinking hard about it. About things in general.
And isn’t that the biggest thing you can do on this earth? Isn’t that what we should all aspire to leave behind?
Change has to start in one’s mind, after all. She gave form to her thoughts and left them with us. I care a lot about that, and I am so glad she was benevolent enough to share her hardships in such beautiful ways. I will carry this with me.
I don’t know who’s going to be my favourite poet now.
And I don’t want to replace her. I can’t. So I won’t.
I’m going to tell myself she still exists. On my bookshelf and in my mind. I’ll tell myself she has changed form and is indeed still here.
I won’t cry less this way, but the tears aren’t as cold.
Of course people like Miss Marguerite will grow old.
With aging comes death, and with death comes relief;
This will be enough to allay the worst of my grief.
Formes Frustes – The Pulse of My Mourning (2014)