By Constance Miles, 11/23/20
You say the grief isn’t like a
hurricane any more, with torrents
of tears shed continuously. It’s
still there, and you have your
moments, but slowly, ever so slowly,
you’re coming to accept that Tymon
is gone. It’s not so debilitating.
It’s slow, this grief, like slogging
through quicksand, motivation and
creativity relegated to the ground,
like silt clinging to mudboots. They’ll
have to return bottom up, when the
time is right, when the heart muscles
up or softens or both.