When a loved one dies,
Grief is not the dwelling place
Of those who leave.
It is the sad domain
Of those who stay behind.
For those who, out of love,
Or guilt, or fear, or pain,
Have felt the act of parting
Like a wrenching out
Of the heart.
Left only with the emptiness of loss,
The loss of sight,
The loss of sound,
The loss of touch
The loss of knowing.
Grief’s way is smoothed by tears,
And when released,
Their liquid
Sometimes quenches,
Sometimes floods.
Like waves it comes and goes,
Leaving its marks upon the sand.
The pattern of their life,
And ours,
Still intertwined.
Yet, if death is not the end,
But a transition…
As the waves of time
Pass across the sand of life,
We too have our choices.
For the gift of those we love
Was not just in their presence,
What they offered us
To take and keep
Remains behind.
We hold it in
The way we choose
To weave the patterns of our lives.
What we decide to keep,
Or leave behind.
If death is not the end,
But a transition,
Then grief can be our doorway too,
To walk and take through,
As we choose.
© Share D’All
November 2021
Tales of the Universe 