Poetry

The Labyrinth that is Grief

Requires ritual to find an exit

Photo by Erez Attias on Unsplash

Your heart wilts with sorrow
a forgotten vegetable that can’t
be revived by any vinaigrette.

Perhaps you think I mock
or peck at your grief.

Oh no.

There is no relief from
the halting breath of life
that puddles into the ground.

Unmoored from sound,
salty tears mingle
with bitter remorse
like forlorn condiments
in a forgotten refrigerator.

Try to remember —

Love and Loss
have no
“Sell by” date.

Weep and laugh
with abandon.

Morn the moments
into the early hours.

Let your showers warm
your body’s cold grief.

Life was made for facing the sun
And pondering the shadows of
ventures left undone.

Though we cannot all be explorers.
We can be valiant mourners.