POEM: Black

I am mourning my mother.

I’m wearing black for forty days.

I don’t feel like wearing color even after the funeral is over,

And I have said my last goodbye.

I keep wearing black.

Every morning,

I open my walk-in closet and select my next black dress to wear at work.

Then the next black blouse.

Then the next black shirt.

Then the next black skirt.

Then the next pair of black pants.

Until I have exhausted all my black outfits.

Now I understand why they wear black when someone dear to them has departed.

It’s not a social convention.

It’s not meant to display your pain to the rest of the world.

It simply reflects how you feel when you process your loss.

Once I’m done with the black section of my wardrobe, I switch to grey.

My next grey dress.

Then the next grey blouse.

Then the next grey shirt.

Then the next grey skirt.

Then the next pair of grey pants.

Until I exhausted all my grey outfits.

I am not ready to wear color just yet.

I make a slow transition from black to color by wearing grey.

I give myself time to heal.

Until I am ready to make peace with my loss and wear color again.

~~~~~~~~~~

From my book of poetry Sunset in Toronto, page 95.