Grief Looks This Way Sometimes

(Image credit to Kristel Koukoua using Canva.com Magic Design AI Image Generator, 2026)

I see you, Grief, sitting there across the room.

Your shoulders are dropped and serene,

Your countenance, hidden from me by your impartial cheek,

I know to be calm, patient.

Sometimes, I think I've moved on from your visits,

Healing and processing each new loss with experience,

The deep knowing that we heal and life moves on.

Then, a scent, a phrase, a taste, a texture, a sound,

And suddenly, Grief, you look at me with those eyes deep as the caverns of the deep,

The silent streams of sorrow pouring down your visage,

And I am transported to those moments,

Those scenes from days gone by.

Sometimes, the memories are mixed with pain and hurt.

Sometimes, they spark deep joy and laughter.

Sometimes, they feel like a sharp, twisting dagger point.

Sometimes, they smolder and burn with leftover anger at injustice.

Once the torrent passes and the droplets, too, have ceased,

Grief, you smile at me with a quiet reassurance

And lift your eyes once more toward the mountains

Just outside the window where the next sun will come up.

And I go about my days, nearly forgetting you sit there still,

And still, Grief looks this way sometimes.

Alma de Color