A Poem for a Thursday #290

The lovely thing about having featured a weekly poem for 290 weeks is that I have found some favorite poets. This comes in handy on days like today when I worked late and realized at almost 10:00 p.m. that I hadn’t written this post. Today I am going with a favorite I have featured several times before. Barbara Crooker is so good. I hope you enjoy this poem.

GRIEF 

is a river you wade in until you get to the other side.
But I am here, stuck in the middle, water parting
around my ankles, moving downstream
over the flat rocks. I'm not able to lift a foot,
move on. Instead, I'm going to stay here
in the shallows with my sorrow, nurture it
like a cranky baby, rock it in my arms.
I don't want it to grow up, go to school, get married.
It's mine. Yes, the October sunlight wraps me
in its yellow shawl, and the air is sweet
as a golden Tokay. On the other side,
there are apples, grapes, walnuts,
and the rocks are warm from the sun.
But I'm going to stand here,
growing colder, until every inch
of my skin is numb. I can't cross over.
Then you will be really gone. 

Grief 
Barbara Crooker