Is grief measurable,
By the years one has, has not
Is grief separable
From the sweet remember, to the rancour forgot
Is the whisper of the well-meaning
Any sort of healing
Or does the gallop of time
To this victimless crime
Bring distance, closure
To us who grow older
Questions without answers, like sons without fathers
From the wood stained cross, to the is changed to was
How does grief feel, well that’s an easy ask
Why it’s just like walking
Barefoot on broken glass
Is grief an enemy
That wounds, sadistic, cruel
Is grief the remedy
That dabs the heart with cotton wool
We talk of process
We hope for progress
But that life, who once had breath
Watches quiet in their death
At the goodbye you, carried beneath the blue
On a day that serves the living, with pain unforgiving
How does grief feel, well that’s an easy ask
Why it’s just like walking
Barefoot on broken glass
My grief has a face
Sometimes young, sometimes old
My grief has a grave
I blub at, unconsoled
And trinkets stay in boxes
For to handle them feels toxic
And photographs faded, volunteer
Nothing more than rapid tears
For we are now the others, daughters without mothers
Left to mourn and love, rant, and shout at God
This is how grief feels, but when will sorrow pass
Will it ever stop this walking
Barefoot on broken glass
Grey Sparrow Journal 