Grief stands waiting in the street
as people hasten by
with ne'er a chance
of passing glance
and both their eyes wiped dry.

But he does not wait for them;
he cranes his neck to see
a woman at the intersection,
her eyes are pleading for direction,
while her face with blank expression
longs for a life complete.

The sun begins to sink beneath
the clouds of silver gray,
and fine, soft mist of dewy kind
alights on hills to lay.

The air is chilling and the breeze
hints at coming frost.
The days are now in autumn's hold,
the leaves have turned from green to gold,
and wander in the whispered cold-
wander like the lost.

Of loss the woman's tale is full;
Grief knows her story well.
A friend whose heart she held so dear
has left this world, no longer near
and yet, without a single tear
the woman stands unfelled.

She makes her way back to her home.
Grief follows close behind.
Her steady hand unlocks the door;
together they step inside.

Alone at last, the woman falls,
crumpled to the floor.
And with a breath too long held in
she cries out weakly, "Why?"

"Why does no one stop for grief?
Why cannot time stand still?
I wish the world could wait a spell
and bid my tired heart 'rest well.'
Instead I must rejoin the swell,
And climb the ever-steepening hill."

At this, Grief kneels beside her;
sorrow lines his face.
And although she cannot hear
says, "No one stops for grief, my dear.
It is sadness, plain and clear,
and will not disappear with haste.

"So, though you must again go out
and face this hurried world,
take hold of all the memories.
Find hope and strength in all of these;
let them be your guiding lead
to walk the path you tread."

The woman slowly dries her eyes;
no tears left to be cried.
And suddenly a gentle peace
as comforting as warmth of fleece
descends into the light.

Grief knew his time to go was here,
though he would soon be back.
For Grief, he never travels far
and never travels fast.

But as he casts a parting glance,
he offers whispered word,
"No one stops for grief, it's true,
I wish the world were kinder too,
but grief will always follow you
as long as grief's deferred."

---

I wrote this poem thinking about something my dad said to me several years ago: why can’t we stop time to grieve, just for a moment? This world moves too fast for us and it is too hard to find time for ourselves, let alone truly mourn. But it is so important to allow ourselves to feel the emotions when we can in order to move forward in our lives.

The format of this poem was inspired by Malcom Guite’s Galahad and the Grail, which he writes in ballad form. Trying to write in this form was a challenge but it was very rewarding.

I hope reading this lets you to know it is okay to feel, even if you have to steal a moment to do so.

‘Till next time,

Charlotte