Looks like I go through all five stages of grief in a day
And then wake up
And go through all five stages all over again
Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance
They don’t even rhyme
They don’t even include humor or wisdom from past grief
They just march in and march out
As if on the appointed round
Postmen without mercy or guile to vary the route
Without leaving the comfort of letters to read to a wilting heart

Heartache is the consequence
Of love
Either you suffer
Or you have not loved
And have not risked
Your being for another
Or for a cause worth living out
In the desire for the highest
And best good in this life.

I risk.
I suffer.
And I wear tears like a badge
Between moments of bliss.