Grief is cumulative
the way it collects and gathers in secret pockets
in our bodies
like dust, it gathers together
one day we notice it there.
It mixes and melds
It fills us just beyond the brim.
A large, hard, solid lump
that catches us.
From one grief to the next, we
step across, swim through and reach.
The breeze carries the scent
and we remember.
We access something buried but not dead.
Something to remind us we are alive.
We are alive because we know death.