I Will Not End My Grief

Could there be a requisite span of mourning –
some sentence meted out by the dead
to be thrown black out into a day without –
wistfully walking away?

I picked a stone on a path as I thought of you.
I picked a stone for my pocket,
and there, in my pocket is my term of grief.

So do not tell me it is time,
the heels of time kick like boots,
kick like struck mules, stiff in the mud
and braying.

I picked a stone as I thought of you.
And in that stone I keep one thing alive.
And to cast that stone upon waters,
is the moment I too shall die.

Image: Lindsey Middleton on Unsplash

4 thoughts on “I Will Not End My Grief

  1. Thanks, Ray. I was quite angry when I wrote this poem. A friend, well intentioned to be sure, told me that I had more than met the acceptable span of mourning and that I should move on with that oft heard phrase, “that’s what he would want”. The dead want nothing… Sorry man. I was about to launch into a rant. You’re the best.

    D

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.