My grief has inside it a forest, thriving,
evergreens of all ages, each tree grown
from a seed of gratitude, each seed
sown from a kindness, a beauty,
a tender word. Some trees were planted
by strangers, others by beloveds,
and others I planted myself.
See how it is that in these moments
when I think my feet are too leaden
to take another step, the sunlight
will sift through the overstory
and shine a path. Sometimes
the whole walk is just one step,
but one step is all it takes to not
be stuck. There are glades where
song gathers and I can rest, trees
I can climb and find a nest
made of thankfulness large enough
to hold me. I didn’t know
how vast the forest was until
I knew how wide grief can be.
And so I keep planting trees.
I am learning to trust the shade,
to breathe in more deeply
the fragrant air, and despite grief,
because grief, I am learning to walk
deeper in, then deeper.