“Group” meets at the high school
They tell me it will be easier to talk in
group
I am the youngest one
I start to walk back to my junior high
I step over cracks and keep my hand in my pocket
Seventh grade walking back from “group”
I sit there silent as the older kids talk
“How are you grieving today”
The fence above the school
Traps me into the appropriate place here
Does not allow me to forget my dad died
I recognize that the highway is on the other side
My escape from going back to class
I walk into class with my pink slip
“Please excuse Megan from being late”
I take my seat and try not to move
I hear everyone whispering
“I wonder where she’s been”
Eighth period over and everyone leaves
My teacher asks to see me after class
“Where were you?”
“I gave you the slip”
She stares at me and holds her pen
I cannot speak
“You will get detention if it happens again,
this will not be okay”
I look at my “group” packet
There are steps to take
I assume that for me
This must be part of “grieving today”
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