Thursday, July 23, 2015

The Grace of Grief

The story’s afoot 
that our trouble is
our finest teacher.

That’s believable 
but hard to practice
when you’re in trouble.

Ten days ago, just,
I was in the throes 
of yard work when I

quite wittingly stretched
my old bag of bones
to prune a tree limb

and unwittingly 
pulled a muscle that
had missed the memo.

The nag needles me
still; try as I will,
it’s taught me nothing.

At first I moaned then
groaned a mite, mostly
to my quiet self.

As the pain increased
I complained aloud
and without ceasing.

Next I tried the odd
muscle relaxer
but got no relief.

So now I do sit, 
not for a cure, yet 
the grace . . . of the grief.

The drill is, it takes 
time for such to heal
through much relaxing.

That takes patience while
remembering . . . how 
to do nothing, well.

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