I read
stages of grief
and they are words on a page
unsullied
incomprehensible
a language I can not
fathom

The language of loss

The language of Denial
I imagined it
I drew it out of my discontent
she is not really gone
I hear her step on the walk
and she will come through the door
right
now

becomes

The language of Anger
burning deep within
unable to stifle
bursts of rage envelope
and consume
how could she
do
that

becomes

The language of Bargaining
because I am powerful
I must be
how could it be otherwise
and so I will give up something precious
but no, no
I already did

becomes

The language of depression
the pit of dispair
I glance upward
into the dank and dreary well
of my imaginings
and the light does not exist

until

The language of Acceptance
lies within the pathway
strewn with bargaining ... depression ... anger ... denial
a maze of emotions
bodies torn from path to path
until the light emerges
brutally gentle
it is
so