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Grief is cumulative

the way it collects and gathers in secret pockets

in aspects

in our bodies

like dust, it gathers together

one day we notice it there.

It mixes and melds

And swells.

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.