Seasons of Grief

December 11, 2016

Seasons of Grief

  1. Summer

               binds my scar of ache
with an embrace of shade.
I pull it like a shroud
over my head to veil
my soundless lips
counting     each
breath.

  1. Autumn

               wanders continents,
tucks me into damp
corners. The wind finds me
tossed and shrunken, pressed
against a soul-etched stone wall.
I burrow my fears
in a tumble of doubts
torn from the limb.

III. Winter

               empties socks
from your drawer like stones.
I pitch them at the night sky.
The pocked moon answers
with a blessing over bleached snow
cleansing your grave.

  1. Spring

               watches me pluck a petal
to flow downstream and fade—
a fleck of nature to remind me
I can move earth
but I cannot bring back
a speck of your dust.

December 11, 2016

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