I have a houseguest–
his name is Grief.
Most days, he sits not speaking;
his shadow mutes the colors, saps the light.
Other days, he is drunk with rage and loss;
he smashes everything and hurls blame everywhere.
And then he weeps.
Most days he simply exists.
His breath steals the life from the air.
His hands are cold and strong in mine. We dance.
And then we weep.
- Loss and Grief are the Ultimate Equalizer (theempathyqueen.wordpress.com)
- Understanding Grief (livinguncovered.wordpress.com)
- Why Crows are Black (searlesofwisdom.wordpress.com)