What is Grief but Death’s tailor?
Grief is a weaver.
Each garment made to suit,
Buttons attached for each year,
Altered hems,
Seams made strong by
Threads of time,
Pockets lined with truth.
Grief is Death’s weaver,
Taking each thread of any color
In and out;
Back and forth.
Rage-red borders blended
Into blues, golds, lilacs,
Pastel colors,
Interspersed with blackness of soul.
Grief makes a fine coat of silken memories
So soft to the touch,
How surprising.
This linen could be a friend
Worn to ragged shreds,
Worn to the bone as
Death is a companion
With us since birth,
There is no void, only Death,
Swaddling us always, yet
Taking us little by little.
For this we grieve.
One day a babe greeting
From the womb with tears,
The next, tears for our passing.
For Death, we are dressed in Grief,
Woven memories of
Laughter and sorrow;
Joy and despair;
Guilt woven into forgiveness;
Grief into love.
Why do we fear, for
We are comforted by this lavish coat
Through all time.
Grief is Death’s tailor
Hired at birth
To weave our lives,
Worn to tatters with threads
Left to line our souls.
Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard
Image: Pixabay.com
I love the imagery in this piece
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Thank you! It went through several drafts. I’m glad it spoke to you!
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