I am presently inept in the presence of Grief. I've had a few run-ins with her lately, and an awkward conversation fumbles back and forth full of starts, interruptions, and red-in-the-face restarts.
She is confident, beautiful, and powerful. Unsure of myself around her, I feel a cowardly inclination to fill the pauses and end up mutely devising appropriate platitudes. What I'd really like to do is create white noise, so the silences don't feel so dead, so cold...so final.
Grief lays me bare, cuts to my marrow. I want to blanket my depravity, but she seeks me out and exposes my hypocrisy. I don't want to be another Eliphaz, Bildad, or Zophar, so I walk alongside her, wondering if my clumsiness will smooth with practice.
