Grief holds it’s own

Grief holds it’s own

rythmn and timing;

cannot be hurried, lectured to,

told to ‘get over it’;

scolded, or scurried.

 

Will not be convenient;

eats up your day,

disrupts your ‘to do’ tasks,

gets in the way.

 

Grief has it’s own timing

and ways;

cannot be fought against;

takes up your days.

 

Infects your evening;

riddles your nights,

and what ever you turn to;

nothing feels right.

 

This is a long and dark

winter of discontent,

your hands are empty;

your mind is longing;

your heart is rent.

 

Nothing sustains you,

everything maims you;

shadows abound.

 

 But then, you turn round.

 

In lengthening evening light,

swathes of bright daffodils

are burning bright;

your veins run with a fierce delight.

 

And you are wondering,

where your grief went.

 

 

(‘And underneath are the ever lasting arms’)

 

 

 

©

 

Ingrid Andrew <> HeartsSong

 

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s