Sitting on my couch in
the apartment I have not
left in days, I bury my
face in my hands and cry.

Today, I am mourning.

I am mourning the students I
did not get to see yesterday,
the joyful laugher that did
not escape our mouths together.

I am mourning the plane
I did not get on this morning,
flying to new opportunities
I don’t know that I’ll get back.

I am mourning my grandmother,
alone in her nursing home on
her birthday– the one I was
supposed to fly home for.

I am mourning the hugs I did not get
to give her– because who knows
how many chances I have to
hold the one who held me up?

I am mourning for the family
and friends I have not been
able to see. The hands not
held and the food not shared.

Today, I am mourning.

And I know I should end
this with something uplifting,
a reminder of my privilege
and how lucky I am.

but today, right now, I am
mourning. And in sitting
in the space between broken
and healing, maybe there is grace.

Today, I am mourning.
But tomorrow, I hope, will be better.