Grief doesn't listen to reason or follow our directions. It can be messy, chaotic--like a firework--a spinner--that when lit takes off in a flash of noise and sparks, goes one direction, abruptly turns another way, settles down for a moment with seeming restraint. But then grief gets a second wind and bursts forward again, until it finally hits the grass and starts a small self-defeating fire, or slides across the pavement and burns itself out with a whimper. We can't control the path, but we can control where we move our feet.
Written 6/2012
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