Grief

For SouldierGirl and everyone who has known the grief of losing a child.

My grief first borne was like

A wound fresh made that bled

And nought could stem its  flow.

But as it healed

I’d pick the scab

And want to see it red.

I feared that if it healed you see

I’d have to let you go.

 

The wound I bore

Has hardened now

I wear it as a scar

I run my fingers down its length

And know an inner strength.