Grief Does Not Compare

How can I say that my grief

is greater than yours?

Do I know the darkest corners

of your nights,

or the secret places

that have been scalded?

Can I see where regrets lie,

waiting to ambush you

in the bedroom

or the supermarket?

A child drops his ice cream cone and

cries as if his entire world has ended.

For him, just at that moment,  

      it has.

It’s all a matter of context, I guess.

Each of us would gladly make a deal,

trade all our ice cream cones forever

for just    

one   

more   

lick    

of time.