
Grief
Grief leads us to the cliff’s edge.
It hardens our features,
brings tears to our eyes,
or turns our hearts into stones,
hard as rocks, cement blocks
that feel nothing.
Sometimes it pushes us
over the edge and we fall,
down, down, into a darkness
that never, ever seems to end.
Friends desert us.
Food is fruitless and fallow.
Our table top is a desert,
barren and bare,
with a lone and level
patchwork cloth that stretches
into far-reaching Saharas,
Gobi wastes of endless sand.
Who will resurrect the dying heart?
Who will hold it in their hands
and bring it pulsing back to life?
If you won’t do it for yourself
nobody else will care to try.
Think of the happy times,
the times when the sun shone,
the earth was warm,
and your life was a walk
in a garden full of flowers.
Then feel the sharp stones
beneath your feet and know
that joy and sorrow,
laughter and tears,
sun and clouds and rainbows too
will always grow
to lighten the lives
of all of us who dwell below.
Click for Roger’s reading on Anchor.
Grief
I feel like you have looked into my soul, Roger. So much hidden inside wanting to get out but no way to express it yet!
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It will come, bit by bit. Never fear. Just expressing the existence of it is the first step along the road. Send me an e-mail (please!) – I was gong to write to you yesterday but ‘lost’ your address.
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I guess we have found the addresses now. I still can’t find a few cousins but it will come back when the time is right.
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That’s great. Got your e-mail. We have lift-off!
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