There will be days
When the words won’t flow
When grief is a stopper in the throat-hands-mind
.
There will be days
Of forgetting and remembrance
When loss gives way to joy
Joy to confusion
Confusion to clarity
When coherence is lost
To a glorious, bittersweet, saltwater mess
.
There will be days
Of aching clawing dark
And rising light
.
Words and tears, flow
Fingers and eyes
Heart, body, soul
Let them speak where
Perhaps
Mouths cannot
.
(S. —
Until we meet again.
R.)