I now understand
the meaning of
shattered.
I can’t even tell if it is okay
to smile at my wife–
but I’ll go for a walk,
and while I am out,
get her the box of chai
she was searching for.
—
I don’t know where to begin. I’ve lost my son.
I don’t know where to begin. Perhaps deciding to simply sit here, inside this not-knowing, inside this feeling of being shattered–perhaps this is something Zen gave to me, having turned out to be nothing I was actually looking for.
I don’t know where to begin. Except to return here, reach for my pencil and scratch out a few of the fragments I find.
bussokuseki 
It comes in waves as at the shore, leaving me pained, then surprising me awake again, as I forgot for a moment.
sitting with you in the not-knowing. Holding gentle each fragment you find and are able to offer
“to simply sit here…inside this feeling of being…”
Beautiful. A very hard time. Feels like I’m walking thru very deep water. One step at a time.
Your poetry hasnt’ been in my mail box for awhile. It’s good to hear your poetry. Glad you picked up a pencil.
Very moving.