Grief is as the ocean
Its depth unfathomable
 But as with the moving tide
 It must be free,
A crescendo of great waves
Receding again to calm waters.

It must as tile river flow freely
Unless it erode the river bank.

It is as a lake,
Calm on the surface
 But turbulent with energy
In depths unseen.

It is as the creek,
Meandering through the obstacles
 Struggling foreign forces
 Until resting finally on foreign soil.

It is as a breeze
Touching gently,
And the hurricane
That thrashes its course.

But for all that
Grief is loving,
And love too must be free
Reaching further than the tides of nature
It reaches out to Thee.

                     © Helen Catherine Cramer
       June, 1985.