there commenced a grief
of indeterminate nature
wily and severe
ambushing from hidden
corners retreating
and regrouping
I thought
I knew all the secret
places from which
the heart blossoms
or breaks
this sorrow
has about it the
completeness of
joy its heedless
spontaneity and how
does one bear
such rigorous purity
the necessary
incoherence from
which the silenced
tongue may slowly
learn to speak love
in the past tense?
Meditatio Ephemera 
Nothing more to say, Rafiki, than to hear your beautiful poem, and the thoughtful reflections of the readers above. After you died (past tense)
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Thank you, as always, for reading and commenting, my friend.
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Slowly speak love in the past tense…yeah
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Thank you for reading and commenting. That difficult learning speaks volumes, doesn’t it?
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Grief ambushing from hidden corners … you’ve captured the illusive, Cate.
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Thanks, Jazz.
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