Grief

It rolls Like the swell of waves driven by wind And by a deeper unseen current It's pushes seemingly so graceful (As with the waltz's rise and fall) But crashes, breaks, explodes, dashes against rock and shore.

And it doesn't stop.

It blows, Returns, gathers, grows, from behind again And again. Not so much the circling arc Of dance but the beat of a hammer Who pounds, breaks, turns, twists, With its vortex and circling Around and back, Overhead and down.

And then it stops.

And as with any storm Whose eye passes over You're lured into thinking That's done with.

artwork: Ludolf Bakhuizen (1631–1708), Ships Running Aground in a Storm, 1690s, oil on canvas. Royal Museums of Fine Arts of Belgium  #poetry #grief #freeverse