The Voice of Grief

What is this?
The white heat of grief?
I don’t want to
turn over a new leaf.
I want to suffer;
suffering helps me
remember the beauty
you spread far and wide.
Unconditional love
once walked by my side.
Had I not seen
you playing the music called morning,
grass turn emerald green
in light of your smile and eyes,
you lighting up each season,
I’d have been a child of reason;
like your friends, I would have been wise
enough to let you go.
Had your treasures been half-hidden from view,
had the love been a little less,
wisdom might have seen me through.

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