when they first go,
let yourself think every selfish, no-good, dirty, angry, filthy, horrible thought. let the waves of anger wash through you.
let grief do its work.
do not swallow your tongue
when it turns into a blade.
scream a little, if you have to, but don’t swallow that sharp. don’t.
blame God, if you have to. shake your fist at the sky.
let it happen. he will forgive you.
eat. remember to feed yourself.
shower, if you can. sleep.
kiss your loved ones on the forehead.
recognize how and where love still exists.
forgive tomorrow for never showing up for them.
grab your anger by the shoulders and shake it until it crumbles.
be sad. let your heart be heavier than wet jeans.
feel how much weight there is on your chest.
sit in wonder at how you are still alive, how this didn’t kill you, too.
hold yourself like a child. sing yourself to sleep.
go where the warmth is.
dry your clothes in sunlight, then wear the warmth.
this pain is permanent, but, like a scar, it will fade. a crescent moon on your arm.
make no apologies for what you’ve done to survive.
it is okay to miss them every second.
it is okay to howl at the moon.
pain is an animal with sharp teeth and a soft heart.
wait.
it will get easier.
time will slip its fingers inside of that gaping hole
and pull the darkness out, little by little.
wait.
listen for their voice, whispering,
“I AM HAPPY. WHEREVER I AM. LIVE IN PEACE.”

– grief counseling | Caitlyn Siehl

Start by pulling him out of the fire and
hoping that he will forget the smell.
He was supposed to be an angel but they took him
from that light and turned him into something hungry,
something that forgets what his hands are for when they
aren’t shaking.
He will lose so much, and you will watch it all happen
because you had him first, and you would let the world
break its own neck if it means keeping him.
Start by wiping the blood off of his chin and
pretending to understand.
Repeat to yourself
“I won’t leave you, I won’t leave you”
until you fall asleep and dream of the place
where nothing is red.
When is a monster not a monster?
Oh, when you love it.
Oh, when you used to sing it to sleep.
Here are your upturned hands.
Give them to him and watch how he prays
like he is learning his first words.
Start by pulling him out of another fire,
and putting him back together with the pieces
you find on the floor.
There is so much to forgive, but you do not
know how to forget.
When is a monster not a monster?
Oh, when you are the reason it has become so mangled.
Here is your humble offering,
obliterated and broken in the mouth
of this abandoned church.
He has come back to stop the world
from turning itself inside out, and you love him, you do,
so you won’t let him.
Tell him that you will never know any better.
Pretend to understand why that isn’t good enough.

– “Start Here” by Caitlyn Siehl

Caitlyn Siehl is the author of What We Buried
Her Tumblr page is: alonesomes

Girl, bite. Girl, devour. Girl, don’t forgive.
Girl, stay angry. Girl, be selfish.
Girl, walk away from him when he raises his hand.
There is no place that can handle you,
but you must go anyway, to the hills,
the mountains, the cities.
They’ll call you monster,
and they’ll be so right.
Girl, show them.
Girl, run your hands along the
wound and seal it with your
heat. Cauterize.
They thought they could get to you.
They thought they could take you
and make you small.
There may be bruises but you are
no little thing.
Girl, show them your claws.
Show them your wings.
Rise.
Show them your army of injuries
who have come to fight.
Show them the others like you.
Take over the city. Own the mountains.
Bite the hand and the one
behind their back with all the good stuff.
Girl, show your teeth.
Never forget what you can do with them.

— Girl | Caitlyn Siehl