Grief Gardening

The answer to grief is grieving

Working loss around with your tongue

Worrying injustice like a rotten tooth

in your frowning mouth

The answer to grief is bawling

in your beer, screaming in your car,

caressing rage like a summertime lover

until the ache bursts and relief gushes

The answer to grief is lifting

puffy eyes to winter cedars swaying

like gnarled skeletons dancing in the pontiac

wind and finding beauty even there

The answer to grief is rescuing

orphaned begonias from the big box store

on a Sunday in April and plunging

your trembling heart and hands deep

into the cool, silky soil. Nothing mends

like co-creating beauty while dodging

thunder and letting drizzle kiss

your already wet cheeks

The answer to grief is digging

Digging until you exhume your dignity

Until abundance wafts like a blossom

from its buried seed in the grave

of should-have-been because

The answer to grief is witnessing

your own resurrection.