Collapsed Lexicon | Page 69

  69   GRIEF  JOURNAL       She  sings  as  if  knowing  this  is  her  last  morning  in  the  light.   Frost  sparkles  on  hedgerows,  field  grass,  trees;  a  powerful  sight.   The  sunshine  is  bright.  But  weak.   As  she  is,  bald  beneath  her  woolly  hat.  Red-­‐cheeked.     She  is  grieving  herself  –  the  loss  of  a  mother.   Darts  of  panic;  stomach  spasms.  She  gasps  for  breath  as  despair  tries  to  smother.   She  knows  the  exquisite  joy  and  pain  of  living.   She  senses  the  futility  of  haw,  holly  and  ivy.     A  long  season  is  coming  to  an  end.     There  will  be  a  hardship;   One  that  only  she  can  bear.   That  is  why  the  others  have  gone:   She  must  face  it  alone   Because  only  she  can.     An  angel  of  light  must  leap  into  the  dark,   Set  the  still  vacuum  rippling   With  the  shock  of  this  departure.   She  must  endure  a  transformation *