There’s disbelief in newfound grief;
The hurt is raw and aching.
To turn a leaf or get relief,
One’s heart cannot be breaking.
It’s not a crime to need more time
Before one’s feeling stable;
But it’s a climb to reach one’s prime
When sorrow’s on the table.
Yet wounds do heal and then reveal
A toughness that surprises;
For each ordeal helps unconceal
The strength that one disguises.