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Grief Poem - Weeds

 


A gentle nudge sent “us” outside; we saw a bunch of weeds.

But there within, not quite hidden, someone had sowed some seeds.

 

Two clusters of pretty flowers had not been smothered out.

Tall purple ones, a pretty sight, they had survived the drought.

 

Amid the weeds, the flowers bobbed so gently in the breeze.

But like our grief, walled in with shade, like darkness of the trees.

 

But Lord, we know we’re not alone, though that is now we feel,

Anxiety makes our hearts “black” — the “sunshine” it did steal.

 

The forest gloom felt like our grief, then Sun shone on flowers...



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