More from Hades

I can tell you that today I saw a pomegranate, smashed open, seeds scattered like solid drops of blood across the floor of the 34th Street subway station. It was only about a third of the fruit. I wondered where the rest had gone. Who carries a pomegranate while walking through a subway station? Who actually tries to eat one while walking? Who actually eats pomegranates anyway?

I can tell you that when I woke up this morning, I did not expect to be grieving today. I can also say that grief feels new and wholly empty each time I experience it. Like nothing can fill that emptiness, and “time” is not a satisfying concept in response.

Life comes and goes, and people drop ancient symbols of life and death on a well-traveled walkway.