Grief's Hydrology

Yes. And, no!
Someone I love is gone.
And I watch at the window
As wet snow cascades down—
Like tumbling ash,
Great heaves of it,
Landing grey and sodden
On half-frozen grass,
A blanket of unwelcome ice
So very late this spring.
As I watch these throes of snow—
The white curtains writhing,
Tossing a mangled white blanket on the lawn
Suddenly, I am witness:
Without warning the sky melts
And the ground surrenders to a heavy, pelting rain.

And this I’ve learned about the physics of loss:
There are places in the earth too deep for snow
Caves that can’t be reached by howling ice.
Yet water finds these hidden rooms,
Fills up shallow bowls
Carves depressions deep
Where water gongs a widening wave
Until the arid shore glistens with moisture.
And I know this too:
Nothing stops the touch of water.
She runs down hallowed cheeks
Finds the smallest wrinkles
As rain is drawn to wells run dry
Or tears are shed for sorrows long denied
The price of love, finally, paid.

—Eric Nelson