Grief felt, grief embraced
is the handmaid to beauty—
the rich living soil
that brings the soul to flower
and then to fruit and then to harvest
in daily acts of compassion,
which is to say justice,
which is to say beauty.
Grief ignored, grief buried
is the handmaid to hate—
the sterile superfund site
that stunts the soul
twists and turns it in upon itself
until it withers away
in daily acts of fear,
which is to say injustice,
which is to say hate.
“Setting Sun” by Anna Edwards, oil on canvas.