Grief hurts. It’s not even the pain of the tragedy itself that I'm talking about, but what comes after -- to hold you, to give you something to hold on to when all else feels lost.
As a society, we tend to label grief as bad, badgering it into being innately wrong when, in fact, it’s proof that we’ve lived and loved. Really lived, really loved: the experience we’re here for.
It’s not easy work, but my work embraces grief as part of LIFE, not just death. It’s a grand piece of your healing, a constant reminder that you can’t pretend away your feelings.
It can feel like you’re living in a shadow, a deep sea of haze, but one that “still lets the light through.”
It’s not just death, but life. Not just darkness, but light. As if the universe itself was a complex being, with emotions and tides and shifting edges.
Grief changes with the seasons yet remains unchanged by the passage of time. Like you’re changed by the things that happen to and around you, yet inside there’s something that stays the same. There’s a you-ness that doesn’t wilt.
While grief lasts a lifetime, thankfully, love lasts just as long… if not longer.
Here’s a poem about what grief is like, then and now, as I know it.
It’s about the wreckage, the being washed away and remade in a new way. If it resonates with you, I’d love for you to tell me.
What Grief Is Like ~ A Poem
It is the image of undoing,
the internal tide
that returns upon itself to erase
the very shore.
It is a cool stream of sympathy
that leaves you shaking once it’s passed.
Like mist, it haunts you in its waking,
this memory, a nightmare never shaken.
It covers all things, waiting
for your every turn.
It holds all things, like a promise
fulfilled, for it is the constant denial of
never having lived.
Groundless, hopeless, wordless.
The last bit of you gives way.
Every cell of your body, awash
with a grief that now holds you,
a new existence to house your soul.
It carries you through seasons.
It folds and unfolds as the clouds do.
It is earth, sky, air, water, fire.
It is a midnight, solaced,
And as you move closer,
as it enclosed you,
you see a new face on this body
of grief. You see
Your surrender was of glory and grace,
a place of new growth, the spirit
of cosmic change.
It was your own crossing over.
It was made part of you and you,
This is a grief longing to be held.
This, the mood of the universe.
. . .
My print picks of the week:
- Wear your scars to show how a phoenix is born from ashes and hope.
- I have not heard your voice in years, but my heart has conversations with you every day.
- ... in the middle of everything, there's love.
Can you resonate with this poem? Which part really hits home for you?
Tell me in the comments. I read every single one, and I’d love to know what you think. It might be exactly what someone else needs to read, and it might inspire the next thing I make.
P.S. Need something to help carry you (or a friend) through the hardest times? Go visit my shop for handwritten poetry prints, books, and more.