in the midst of a flood, consider the color of the water. -m. k. selwood

i remember grief

like i remember old friends,

walking through the pages that are my life’s story.

sometimes,

grief was the friend

holding me under the waves,

salt water searing my lungs,

until i finally fought my way to the top,

only to find

i was fighting a colossal storm.

grief was the friend 

who left my heart black and blue

while observers 

thought they were helping

by offering band-aids.

grief was the friend 

daring me to drive without headlights

or to throw back some pills

because i didn’t want to feel anymore.

grief was the friend keeping me up

late nights turning to early mornings,

the one leaving me cold on the floor,

stripping my soul bare.

other times,

grief was the friend pushing itself to poetry,

the tears rearranging into ink patterns on blank pages.

grief was the friend

telling those onlookers

to hold me tighter,

weaving our life-threads together,

reminding us why we were willing to pay the price for love.

now,

grief is the friend

who walks with me always,

tinting my beautiful moments with the fear

that they’ll soon be over,

but reminding me 

to hold them

while they’re still here.

grief is the friend contrasting 

all of my life’s colors,

showing my eyes 

how bright they really are.

grief is the friend

whispering sorrow

while proving joy.

i remember grief 

like i remember love

knowing i’ll never have one without the other

and still waking up

to choose love.