The way old friends walk together—
that is how it is today with me and grief.
We stop and admire the cloudless sky,
the flight of a hawk. We keep walking.
There isn’t much to say, so we’re quiet.
No bluster. No drama. No striving.
Sometimes we catch a glimpse
of our shadows and wave.
It’s not uphill, we’re not out of breath.
I didn’t know walking with grief
could be like this.
There was a time, I remember, before.
Now, I can’t imagine not feeling close.
When the walk is done,
there’s no need to say goodbye.
I hold out my hand. We go on.