Grace, a modern psalm.

I watch the world parade around me, seemingly ignorant of my pain.

But I am not alone. As I have a new companion called grief, who whispers and tells me of what was. And I remember why I am here as he sits close and holds my hand.

My friend is not good or bad, but demands most of my attention as we talk.

We talk for so long, and I wonder if the conversation will ever cease

Some say times a healer and that the open wound of loss will eventually become just another scar. But I am not there yet, as grief continues to talk.

How long ?

But then you came.

Standing for me when I no longer had the strength.

Breathing for me when I could no longer fill my chest.

When my tongue fell silent and my words fell shattering upon the floor. You spoke for me

When my tears ran dry, you cried for me.

I am forever changed on the inside, older on the outside. Always feeling the tremors of what’s passed. The unbidden violence of change, a ceaseless, but necessary storm in my heart.

I rise from my knees and carry on, broken yet healed.

And as blood calls to blood, and bids me home.

I finally look into your eyes and find rest.