Alpine grief

I wade into grief slowly
as if it were an alpine lake
each step causing breathless gasping
its frigid bite meeting warm skin.
So I wait
until each body part
grows numb
the thousand poking needles
as if a thin paper
suddenly shields my skin.
Finally, I am immersed
and I carefully tilt back my head
to press my nose
into the air
as the water covers my face.
I wait
feeling the throbbing cold
complete its path
through my skin, muscles, nerves, and bones
until it hits my core
until I am fully conscious
of my submersion.
And then, only then
do I slowly turn around
layer by layer
my body emerges
dripping, sodden
until I stand on dry ground
once more.
But even then
the memory of the dark waters
remains in the faint, shimmering droplets
perched on my skin
sending goose-bumped shivers
across my body.



13 thoughts on “Alpine grief

  1. I love this – the words submerging me into the reality of grief… Loved the slow way it took me into physical feeling, the needles, the numbness, tingling, and so on. Really an exquisite write, read. Thank you

  2. This is amazing. As a hospice nurse I walked through grief with others and my own grief for many, many years. You have encapsulated the experience so effectively and beautifully. Wow!

  3. Your words are powerful. I see the image in my head: a girl in pain, slowly walking into a cold body of water, until she’s completely submerged in it. When we’re faced with a major loss, we want to become numb so we won’t have to confront the pain head-on. I can definitely relate. I love this piece; it gives me goosebumps!

  4. I love the sensory details, they really help put me into the scene. It’s very cool how you combine the physical and emotional sensations, and I agree with your perspective on grief.

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