“Grief,” by Bill Denham

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.



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