Grief is a North Atlantic wave crashing on a rocky shore.
She drags your heart across the sharp rocks, pulling you down to her cold bosom.
The dark bottom, the depths of despair.
Your strength goes into staying above the crashing wake.
Below the waves the calm deceives, inviting your surrender.
The saltiness.
The quiet.
She waits.
You draw in deep breaths.
Regain your footing and rise again.
The cold water widow holds you trembling.
To the depths she beckons.
Open your eyes in the water surrounding.
All directions lost.
Options a distant shore.
Places of unknowable outcomes.
Paddle here a while.
Stay in this place of not knowing.
Go with her rhythms of upheaval, rising and falling; find healing in this motion.
Fighting against her does no good, she’s stronger.
Paddle here a while.
Accept this place. She carries you, gentle arms encircling.
Changes like the cycle of the moon. The times and tides.
Paddle here a while.
Accept this place.
Regain your footing.
I often think of my grief as walking along and unsuspectingly stepping into a deep hole.....struggle awhile and then slowly climb out and continue.....carrying a wet, lingering reminder, but moving forward. You are much more eloquent than I. Thanks Linda.