An Ocean of Grief
by Ferna Lary Mills

I cautiously watch the water as it moves along the shore
creeping closer to the sand around my feet.
Beyond the crashing waves, where the water is deepest green
the ocean mirrors the depths of my grief.

My grief is like the ocean, sorrow coming in like waves,
sometimes gentle like a ripple on the sea.
Other times it just engulfs me with crushing waves of sadness
and undertows of despair pull down on me.

Some days I wade out in it, splashing memories with my feet,
recalling days of sunshine on my face.
Stepping through the foamy edges never venturing out so far
that larger waves can threaten their embrace.

Then when I least expect it this freak of nature soaks me
in reality so painful that I fall.
The sorrow and the anger that I've fought with day to day
surge through me in a tidal free-for-all.

One day when I'm much stronger and my grief is not so new
I'll swim just like I used to do before.
I'll take pleasure in the memories,
and tread water in those places
that we can't share together anymore.