Song of the Windflowers

After you’d gone, grieving was good
they’d have me believe; spoke all about
the ‘Grief Cycle’

Like it or not, they told me, it was something
I was on...No turning back; destination,
‘Acceptance’ (in big letters)

I journeyed far; traversed arid deserts –
climbed hills and mountains...
crossed plateau and plain

but that place they tell me I’m headed
gets further and further away;

until yesterday
saw green fields
sunshine – blossoming trees
and sparkling seas

I longed to stay...if only for while – recharge
my batteries –listen to the grass grow
the birdsong – obese with joy

but something was wrong. Those wheels
just kept on turning. Grief is a cycle won’t stop
since you are gone

“Yes,” said the windflowers, when
I bent down to pick some
to bring to you...that, even as I speak,
are withering...

“Sometimes,” they went on, “Some things
are deemed precious, all the more,
because they don’t last
for long”