"Grief," A Poetry Post

When the monitors were turned off,

and the autopsy documents were signed,

and the drive home was done,

and the family was away,

I sat down under the old cruise picture

to wait for

grief's chariot to

carry me away from

this world.

Instead,

the humidity of God's love

rushed in upon my skin and

rested on the dry places.

It forced me to breathe,

to gasp,

to respond.

It forced me to live.

-T. D. James-Moss