Like a sign finally read after years of passing by,
turning down the path I’m required to take,
asking what happens in this time called “grief”. 

There’s work to be done, putting a life away,
hidden fears discovered, and stories told of
what I was too close to see in our shared time. 

The busyness loosens and tasks frustrate. 
Suddenly I am distraught and yelling, lost
and alone, shaking in anger. 

Sometimes my voice wobbles and eyes tear. 
Sometimes I am happy in a new moment. 
Sometimes I don’t know who I am. 

Some who have walked this path tell me
it never ends, but it has corners of comfort
and grows less steep and rough. 

I want to be . . .
I don’t know what this “new normal” is
yet.