Grief is an old country song,
sorrow spoken in simple broken
verses accompanied by
the tears of hillbillies
and their family as they cry.

It is reaching for forgotten values,
beseeching preachers for what
tired seekers cease to believe
because innocence has been
abused and deceived.

It is hard work paid against
the balance that will never
ever break even again.

Calloused hands and hearts
muddy boots and ***** pants,
from reaping what we plant,
while others are sowing
the hate that they are growing.

Hymnals become pleasant memories
of a place that no longer holds
much power over me.
Nostalgia makes me smile
uneasily as I rise to see
the past played out
then fading from me.

Grief is knowing that
I cannot make my way back
or revisit the people
who are currently missing
from life’s short stay,
in this world’s late stage
spinning plate play.