My world is muted, not colorless as many mourners report.
All brown and grey and silky white. Gentle colors.
There are patterns and intricacies visible only in winter, when life has seemingly stopped.
There are reflections of life in the muddy water and tiny buds despite the thorns.
I am walking through a long, bare tunnel. The cold air echoes in the emptiness.
As I emerge from the darkness, a surprised robin surprises me.
He’s here early.
He tilts his head towards me, all attention as if I’m a worm underground, which he decides I am not.
He flits from branch to branch before flying off, beckoning me to follow his melodious call of spring.
Postscript: I decided I wanted a clearer photo of the flower bud, so I went outside and traipsed through the slushy snow only to find that the hydrangea buds had turned black in the recent arctic blast. Ah well, I guess that’s why they call it seasons of grief. The good news is, this made me laugh. Also, the crocus is from last year. But I know they’re coming . . .
One day at a time.
Writing with Spirit 
Jan 28, 2014 @ 13:40:28
Great post. There is beauty even in winter. Melanie, the crocuses are indeed coming.
Jan 28, 2014 @ 16:51:25
Yes. In fact, somehow the winter season fits my grief and feels right. Still, I’ll be glad for the crocus!
Jan 28, 2014 @ 06:35:28
Beautiful! Love the photos, every one a treat. I can smell the ice! Great narrative, too. Yes, colors are muted, but edges, textures, and patterns come into crisp relief. The idea of a worm-eater regarding you emerging from a tunnel is hilarious!
Jan 28, 2014 @ 09:28:32
Glad you like it. I want to take a photography class so I can get better at capturing life!
Jan 27, 2014 @ 16:10:26
Did you ever read Parker Palmer’s “Let Your Life Speak”. He talks about the four seasons and has similar thoughts on winter in his writing to the ideas you are getting at above — not dead but hidden. He had significant struggles with depression that he describes in the book.
It was good seeing you yesterday. Praying for you as you walk through the shadowlands.
Jan 27, 2014 @ 18:44:25
I have read that – I love it. In fact, I have been thinking I’d like to read it again now that I’m in transition (again).
I’ve used some of Joyce Rupp’s writing about seasons in our contemplative prayer group. She writes beautifully about winter being a season of re-grouping and resting when all looks dead.
Thanks for the kind words and the prayers, Alan. It was good to see you, too. I don’t think I’ve seen your daughter since she was a tot.
Jan 27, 2014 @ 13:29:40
mel, as usual, i love your words and seeing what you see. thanks for sharing.
Jan 27, 2014 @ 13:32:20
Grief opens your eyes to see things differently, as you know. For me, there’s beauty in it because it’s another side of love and connectedness, or at least our longing for it. I finally started crying for real yesterday, and it was good.
Jan 27, 2014 @ 13:29:05
mel, again, you capture so much. love to read your words and see what you see.
Jan 27, 2014 @ 12:15:15
One day at a time, one leaf at a time. Lovely poem.
Jan 27, 2014 @ 12:18:17
Thanks – it’s tricky trying to document the grief journey. It changes moment by moment, so you have to write each post all at once cause you’ll feel differently by the afternoon!