Lines Between Living

Grief can disguise itself as your shadow,

walking besides you as if it belongs.

It feels so familiar like a comforting sweater,

a shield against the wind that cuts to the bone.

It can feel like the only friend who stays,

holding your hand, listening with the patience

of the oldest and dearest companion.

It speaks in melodies,

like the sweetest chorus of our favorite songs,

carrying the emotions we cannot say,

woven into the strings and keys of memory.

We run from it each day,

measuring time minute by minute,

through a single minute can stretch

into weeks,months,years.

Grief is heavy.

It engulfs, it suffocates,

as as if we lie in our coffin,

gasping for breath that never comes.

It hides in our eyes,

sending silent SOS signals,

prayers that someone will see

the pain we’re tucked away

and know how to ease it.

Grief never leaves.

Minutes turn into hours,

hours into days,

days into years

still,lingers.

We learn to carry it,

but must never forget its power.

For just when we believe

we’re learned to live with it,

it returns,

knocking us to our knees,

as if it were the very first day

it entered our lives.