What Will Be Left of Me - Micro Poem

What Will Be Left of Me

What Will Be Left of Me

Grief isn’t just about death —

we should be taught the grief of hormones,

the grief of becoming someone new

without choosing it.

Perimenopause arrives

and I lose versions of myself

I thought would return.

Menopause arrives

and the me I knew is gone.

I grieve my brain —

the firing, the misfiring —

and the woman I was

before it shifted.

What Will Be Left of Me

Grief isn’t just about death —
we should be taught the grief of hormones,
the grief of becoming someone new
without choosing it.

Perimenopause arrives
and I lose versions of myself
I thought would return.

Menopause arrives
and the me I knew is gone.

I grieve my brain —
the firing, the misfiring —
and the woman I was
before it shifted.

What Will Be Left of Me

Grief isn’t just about death —
we should be taught the grief of hormones,
the grief of becoming someone new
without choosing it.

Perimenopause arrives
and I lose versions of myself
I thought would return.

Menopause arrives
and the me I knew is gone.

I grieve my brain —
the firing, the misfiring —
and the woman I was
before it shifted.

What Will Be Left of Me

Grief isn’t just about death —
we should be taught the grief of hormones,
the grief of becoming someone new
without choosing it.

Perimenopause arrives
and I lose versions of myself
I thought would return.

Menopause arrives
and the me I knew is gone.

I grieve my brain —
the firing, the misfiring —
and the woman I was
before it shifted.

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