This is how I got through the grieving process-hope it helps someone
The Colors of Morning…Mourning Colors
The grey falls down.
The grey has fallen.
Covering the waiting earth.
Clothing the naked sky.
This day is too thick, this day too heavy.
A winter like sky welcomes idle brains back from summer
It clings to the laughter of children, hangs on to their frustration
Summer echoes through my veil of fallen grey.
Through open windows
Across open wounds.
This pain too fresh
Crisp, white, accompanied by the snap of just out of the plastic.
The grey follows them in the pre dawn sky
Their shadows silhouetted against a deep blue of promises, too expensive to keep.
They take my mourning soul with them.
Away from the falling grey
Trying to put distance between my soul in this morning of grey
And the heavy weight of unspoken pulling
Dragging across a body worn.
Snap.
Thud.
The pain can be heard in the silence of this too early morning.
Through the falling grey.
Behind the veil of my mourning soul.
This heavy day soon became something else entirely.
Another moment trapped in a piece of memory.
Evening’s underskirt was still loosely trailing
Revealing the red and gold hints of day
The sky yawned then stretched, a touch of blue peered shyly around the corner
A gust of ordinary cooled the sizzle of St. Louis summer
Soon the quiet will be broken and I will feel
Your whisper through my soul, wonder briefly if
Maybe I’ll see you again, through the crisp clear day breaking across the sky.
See your smile again in the warm breeze, maybe.
Feel your arms around me chasing away fear and doubts, again, maybe.
Yet not now in this fallen grey.
That morning now etched in my heart, I’m leaving.
Following my heart again through a distance not measured in miles
A time standing still in that now-leaving
Stopping at that moment when we said hello
Your smile waiting to fill my empty space
This morning that space is only grey.
Falling
Covering the waiting earth
Wrapping my soul in its thickness
I fall into the grey
Become a fragment of the heaviness
Too full to move in this morning of grey
My mourning soul waits
Wonders, dares to hope?
No.
Too fragile, too quick
The strands float loosely, in time with a cool breeze
Then disappear through the fallen grey.
The day became too much, too crowded
My movements slowed
Energy drained, it dripped
Dropped to the dry earth.
Then you poured through me
Leaving traces of grey.