Grief (Like Snowflakes)

 

Grief (like snowflakes)

follows me through the darkness.

Sometimes it arrives as

a mist or a fog,

hovering around and smothering me

in layers of sadness -

like snowflakes drifting down

and down and down

until every sound is muffled

and the frozen air

cuts through as if

a surgeon's knife 

in delicate hands

eviscerates my soul - 

sharp as a razor

one can barely feel the

cut

until

it 

bleeds.

Other days . . . 

grief, (like snowflakes)

rages through the air

with roaring winds

as if ripping the very

skin from my bones.

The fire of frost

burns inside my throat

as the scalding tears

race down and down and down

until I can barely breath

but then I know

at least

I am still

alive.