The Grief I Feel is of Another Kind

The grief I feel is of another kind Sweeter than holy water A deeper breath than moorland air to find The black of midnight, not— Of monstrous seas, but— Of restful night, donated cloak From a kindly gentleman to wear Wrapped in coolest starlight, safe Astride a destrier — galloping to water Molted feather — fortuitously found New flight, gentle wind in gossamer sail. Creeping tendrils — nettles wind around Sentries of roses — silken petal rounds Shower the lily casket — topped by pearly crown. I know my grief is not the universal kind But something softer than the norm Welcome as a friend, I usher in my grief And death, his brother, dressed in angel white Scythe to call its sleepers — lowered in greeting bow. Farewell, Annie Newcomer to the under-realm. With no card of sympathy Or hearse to see you off In lonely grief you leave your final hurt. But, relief of death follows me, ebony puppy Nipping at my heels, my little black dog Helps my heart to heal.