Seasons of Grief

By Julie Nelson

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

  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.

About Julie Nelson

Julie K. Nelson is a mother of five, author of two books, and wife of one patient husband. She received a master’s degree from Utah State University and currently teaches at Utah Valley University. Her research and creative writing have been published in journals, anthologies, and other media outlets and she is a contributing expert on radio and television. Find her at www.aspoonfulofparenting.com where she writes on the triumphs, challenges, and power of parenting.

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