Grief has No Timeline

Grief has no timeline.

It can’t be rushed but given space to breathe.

Ignore it at your own peril.

When it arrives

With a hot sting of tears,

Throat tightening, core hollowed out,

I can only swallow it in small bites

Before it takes me out like the tide.

Stripped bare,

I slip beneath its icy surface

Like submerging in a pool of water.

Everything is quiet and slow.

Maroon days, as grey and

Overcast as I feel

I watch the falling leaves

Sail to the ground,

Barely a sound

Each one a release.