The Weight of Grief

The weight of grief is so, so heavy. 

You feel it in your shoulders, your back, I feel it in my stomach, my throat. Somehow you get up everyday and you carry it around with you, an invisible load. 
The weight of grief is so, so heavy. 

You sit beside it at the table, and tuck in with it at night. I soak it in the shower and share my cup of tea with it. Somehow I smile at people and laugh with them, an effective mask. 
The weight of grief is so, so heavy. 

You hold it in tight and distract. I let it out and collapse. Somehow this works and the days roll by, a healing of time. 
The weight of grief is so, so heavy. 

You know it won’t pass, you own it for life. I fight it and search, for light, for air. Somehow we survive and breathe through the shakes, an endless battle.
The weight of grief is so, so heavy. 

You smiled today and it stayed a while. I held my head up, stood tall, shoulders back. Somehow it’s a balance, an ebbing and flowing, and this is life. 
– If all you did today was breathe, remember sometimes that is enough. 

Sculpture: The Weight Of Grief, Celeste Roberge