Grief Misses Her Train

Ever found yourself lost in grief?

I offer her another cup of tea;

I already know how she likes it; two tea bags, one sugar, no milk

She tells me she missed her train again, but I know she had no place to go.

I don’t think grief knows if there is anywhere else to go.

I sit with her as she sips her tea, delicately bringing the cup to her lips as she shares stories of old times, of old people, no longer in the present.

She does so with her familiar quivering voice, and tugged smile.

Grief knows not of the future; she knows only of the past and glimpses of the present.

Her tea is getting cold, and the day is growing dark. I know grief has no place to go.

I offer for her to stay with me; make bed in my empty tear ducts where Mourning took his furniture and my days of weeping when he left.

I know tomorrow, Grief will miss her train again, and I will make her another cup of tea; two tea bags, one sugar, no milk.

But tomorrow, I will offer her the spare room in my heart, made vacant when innocence was lost.

I hope one day, she will finish her tea in time to take her train.

Taking her luggage of pain with her, but leaving her stories of the past behind.