We shall know grief—
which is a funny thing to say
while we laugh, pause at anxieties,
only to smile them away.
We befriend joy—
which is to say not just fun
as our smiles drift from serious eyes
because love has begun.
We feel this rain—
not as birds on a lake unwet
but soaking into our consciousness
threads of how we met.
We shall each grow—
breaking husk and ground, with stems
thoughtless of seasons, and wear both
dew-drops and frost-gems.
We become whole—
in grief, joy, sun, frost as equal food
knowing somehow nothing less is true
nothing else as good.
2015 © Andie Davidson
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