the start of the mourning period
like a shock of cold water on your toes
before you jump in
and you will jump in
it’s going to be so cold
it’s going to be so deep
just imagining it
you won’t be able to sleep
but once you feel the touch of grief
it won’t let go
there are a hundred paths to take
but none of them lead backward
tell me about those mountains again
the many peaks and quiet glens
the choices that lie beyond
a cold plunge in this frozen pond
With Love,
Natalie