On Grief (edit)

Quiet grief,

slow grief,

sweet grief,

felt grief.

Grief that kills,

and grief that heals.

Grief in shoes,

and grief bloodied and blued

having walked a 1000 miles

on lime stone

just to drink another cup of your river water.

Grief that takes no passengers on its journey,

and grief that hijacks

you thoroughly,

breaks memory down into an enemy of the state

in a wild mind…

… Grief that makes your body dance

to the heartbeat of another,

and grief that puts men to sleep

after the war is done.

Sane grief,

mad grief,

same grief,

plain grief.

The twinkling and disappearing grief,

and the pristine window with room to roam, grief.

The sweat of me,

you’re lost to me,

the sweet caress

and blasphemy, grief;

the mothers, fathers

who pray for me,

please

be gentle with how you

cradle me,

grief.