My Grief is curing herself...

My grief,

Is curing herself...

She is no longer an ever-stabbing knife,

But a wave that crescendos unexpectedly 

And then dissolves
Into the ocean of life.
Hidden, Invisible, Omnipresent,
Deceptive in her absence and strong in her resolve

To tempt my worn out and gullible soul
With her pretense of peace.

My grief,

Is curing herself...

She awaits me across the river of forced happiness,
Lonesome routine and frail hope, her disguise.

When time courts her,
She drops all cover,
Floods my spirit and ravages the last vestiges of strength.

Newly born:Vanquished: Born again.

She is healing  herself,
Life after Life.

My Grief,

She lives, but is hidden.
She gives birth, but is shamed.
She dies and is readily dismissed.

Through it all,

She grows, so do I.

She heals, so do I.

She smiles, so do I.