Grief
Poetry
Grief is like unending rain,
Pouring down hitting the soil displacing things.
Though at times it feels like hailstorms pelting the windows of our lives,
Sometimes it’s the silent man standing waiting to see if we will scream.
Ready to take us to the abysses of asylum
Grief is motionless-peering at us from the windows: waiting, watching.
But sometimes it’s like a storm surging at our sanity,
Taking our sleep and making us brittle.
Yet grief ushers the door of healing.
It alludes to a normalcy of a different kind.
Grief is an outlet letting go of our pain and ushering in light
But when restrained, bursts its banks releasing havoc in its wake.
Nighttime fades away little by little.
Rays of light peep through carrying much hope.
And this time when the rain pours it doesn’t carry destruction,
Instead, it carries sprouts of new life.
Quenching- the dry soils of our souls.
