Grieving

1 December 2014

In darkening days
when pulse slows,
a great shaggy bear
fattened on berries, and cranky,
lumbers to sniff out a cave in the rocks,
the warmth of forgetfulness, deep sleep.

Who would urge it to spring
back into sharp light and wind,
to lick only snowflakes swirling the snout,
to skid along ice
even great claws cannot grip
before time’s twist in the belly
hungers for a rebirth?

Some too wrap around ourselves
a thickening memory,
lie down, inhale minutes passing
fed up with foraging, fighting, or fleeing
and fill a hollow with rest
mindless, simply to be.

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