Not on a Leash

Grief cannot be trained to sit and stay
or walk beside you on a leash.
When a door is left ajar, it dashes out
to lead you on a game of hide and seek.

Grief will not be groomed with comb or brush.
It sheds wherever fur is wanted least.
It’s always napping on your favorite chair
awakened when you try to take a seat.

Grief will not retrieve a far-flung stick
or give you back the toy between its teeth
but it will fetch forgotten days
and drop them at your feet.

Grief will stray but in the end
it scratches at your door, weary, worn and weak,
begging to be taken in, lifted up,
allowed to rest in peace.

Having hollowed out your heart,
grief settles in, curling up and drifting off to sleep.

 

 

About the Poet:
Kevin Shyne is a long-time writer and occasional poet. His poems have appeared recently in The Lyric and Clementine (Unbound).

 

Poetry Breakfast accepts submissions of poetry and poetry related creative non-fiction year-round.  See our Submission Guidelines page for details on submitting your work.

 

Photo by Photo RaBe.

 

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