six stages
In Spanish, the word for meeting is reunión
And it turns out that is also
the sixth stage of grieving
In the first six months I found myself in denial
Weekends spent in a haze of whiskey
Calling, deleting, repeating your number
until the heat of summer died down
and with it, my body cooled
Then came the anger
red, like a tidal wave
red, like my blood
red, like your name
Furious from dawn to dusk
In the second year I found myself bargaining
Just to see you, one last time
to sever the final tie binding us
Just to see you, one more time
to be set free at last
Then came the depression
blue, like the river separating us
blue, like the ice in my chest
blue, like the sky between
where I was and where you ended up
In the third year I accepted
that you lived only in my head
that I was happy now
that there was no tie binding us
that I would not see you one last time
Then you returned
And for my final stage of grief
I was filled with yellow