Sometimes You Can’t Make It On Your Own

I had been wanting to play it
on my guitar at his funeral
planning it out in my head
at least 5 years before his death

I didn't play it, never learned it

"a house doesn't make a home...
don't leave me here alone..."
when the lines come up tonight
during Bono's elegy to his father
I bawl, like I haven't in the past four months
5 seconds that bring tears, ugly snorting
hand to wipe face

I pick up the book on grieving
I bought at the library booksale
for one dollar
read about telling our stories
again and again and again if need be
telling them until we don't need to anymore

I sit down, write this poem