Grief is Love
by Rachel Kann
Grief is love.
All of it is love.
Every memory,
the fragility,
the frailty,
all that is lost,
the ravage
of humanness,
all its limitations,
the hand-in-hand,
the mystery,
the breath,
the crossing of oceans,
the returning,
the giving away,
and every bit of laughter,
even the bickering,
the aliyah,
the little one you were,
the way your birth
was a miracle
that changed everything—
all of it is love.
The precise moment words
and exhalation
and suffering
are done—
all of it is love.
The awakening
from dreamless sleep,
the momentary relief,
and then
the flood of remembrance,
the ache in your chest,
and yes,
even that relief—
all of it is love.
The wondering,
the evening,
something in the distance
growing smaller,
tts disappearance
beyond the horizon,
the setting sun,
the black night filled with starlight,
and the little flickering flame,
and then darkness,
and then the sun rising again—
all of it is love.
And
it is in the brightness of your smile
(which will, soon enough,
come more easily again,)
it is written in your fingerprints,
it reverberates in the rhythm of your blood,
it is what you are made of,
it is this interweaving of sweetness,
it is what is found in stillness.
You are surrounded
by a swirl of presence,
which is a familiar comforting scent,
which is a hum,
which is a gentleness
which will never leave you.
It will never leave you.
It is promised,
and all of it,
all of it is love.
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