Grief coats lead upon our wings
It makes us small and earthbound things
It stripes our sides with blue and blood
Stains us with the words we didn't say
And turns our mouths to maws
Soon we feel too bright, too hot
An aching spot
That cannot stay and shine where others smile
Their happiness is the color of mud
Against our nights of blue and days of blood
Grief does not lift us, but beneath
Its pretty, heavy wings
Each muscle learns its strength and springs
Us into the air
You say you'll never be ready
Time knows when you'll be ready
I see you there
Flying wounded and bright
Now a glittering, cherished, airborne thing