In that moment before grief
When you have a hold on something
-it could be anything-
or a sheet of paper,
You release your grip in an instant.
Time does not continue,
yet the object falls away.
Not like dropping a ball,
with a child’s anticipation of return.
Neither as with a moment of revelation,
or when gasps follow a feverish plea
It is different.
It is a moment we cannot predict,
unable to stage a photograph
of the way the touch vanishes
and grasp fails,
yet the burden of loss enfolds.