Grief

She grieves, yet grief can never teach  
A way to find a path to reach  
A recollection that felt lost;  
A memory that really cost  
Her more than anything to earn;  
If grief can't teach and she can't learn  
To be without it, as she sits  
And tears her inner self to bits;  
She gathers solace: hears the words  
That others share, but these are blurred  
By fresh flurries of warm, wet tears;  
Brief company - for each one steers  
Its way down cheekbone to the chin  
And slides to drip down on the skin  
That is now bare, for she won't dress  
Being so lost in her distress;  
And, if these verses  are not worth  
Perusal, let this quiet grief lurch  
Along its misled, misted way  
Towards tomorrow's sorrowed play  
For there's no end and no relief  
As all she learns is grief is grief.