Grief is a Cascade of Shattering Glass

Grief is a cascade of shattering glass
waves glide beamingly overhead
opening light through their million edges
in ways that make sunshine new
(I am not used to this parasol)
and the premonition of pain is blurred by the beauty
Next minute
we’re walking chest-deep in fracture
the heat rushes up to heal hairline cuts
that fray hearts to a halo
but legs that appear to be shredded keep walking
mind takes note of extraneous things
– the cats have ran out of biscuits;
today breakfast was leftover rice –
yet mid-morning the thought of her friends and twin sister
washing her, as though asleep in their arms,
perfuming the long hair that once hung in a braid
from a white Astrakhan hat, dressing her
still-warm limbs lovingly,
and the silence of her song forever stilled
returns and aches into my corners
knocks the voice out of me.
Now again the brilliance rises:
the way she could call up an ocean of harmony
from a fidgeting room
turn strangers into heart-mates
and awe at her fearless direction,
blunt honesty when things sounded wrong,
sets a lamp beneath this ceiling of glass
and makes the inside more dazzling than all of the
stars crowding down at us
peering in through the clear roof of the moment
and wishing that they too could know grief.

In memory of a beloved friend, choir mistress and seeker Charlie Radha Spearing, who will be buried today. To donate to a ‘Joy Fund’ so that her 2 year old daughter and 12 year old son can visit their families and go on adventurous as their mother would have liked to have done with them, please visit this link:

3 thoughts on “Grief is a Cascade of Shattering Glass

  1. hi cavemum, my heart goes out to you as your heart heals from loss of your dear friend. sending gratitude for the expression of your grief in such powerful and loving way. it helps to know you are not alone.

  2. Thankyou so much dear Lillian. Just got back from the memorial celebration we had for her here in Spain today, in which there was much singing and a fair few tears, and lots of little paper boats and flowers sent out onto the river to reach the sea. Big hugs from a strangely warm Spain xxx

  3. Pingback: The Spiked Thresholds of Bliss | Cavemum

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