Inconsolable grief

Inconsolable grief (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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.

11 thoughts on “Grief

  1. It’s time, my friend, it’s time! For peace the heart is calling.
    Day flies by after day, and every hour is tolling
    A bit of being away: together you and I
    Suppose that we will live- but see! Just then – we die.

    Visiting from UBC, thanks for sharing

  2. Pingback: She Sleeps | Laura Brewer

  3. Pingback: Tuesday « Dancing with Fireflies

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