Grief

When the watershed of our grief

floods again, and we stand there weakened

and powerless, alone once more and afraid

--  a sad movie or song, a picture pulled from hiding,

from where we’d put it for when we needed it,

ready for it, or the thoughts of their leaving us,

even at no known reason at all, just feeling it,

out of nowhere, a quiet time perhaps when they visit --

there’s nothing we can do but let it wash over us,

let the tears flow and the great sobs unleash

themselves; it’s okay, really, for in our weakened

state, alone and afraid, the memories return,

those pleasant moments of love, soft murmurings

and gentle hugs pulled tighter when we needed them,

remembering the joyous times and the little things

that let us know that we are loved, for even now,

hugged by our grief, alone and afraid, the watershed

of our grief overflowing, still we are loved.