My journey was longer than yours.
I went through the five stages of grief
and then revisited each one again;
sometimes getting stuck
or lost in one or the other.
Denial was quick, for I knew time would heal it.
But anger lingered like the devil
until I bargained my soul for some peace
that would be too slow to come;
depression kicked in then and was cathartic.
Acceptance still bobs around in waves
the last buoy out to sea.
Whilst you covered your own grief
with an opaque band-aid,
licked your wound once, before moving on.
Ellen writes poetry, flash fiction and short stories, recently achieving some success in the literary world of competitions and publication. Links to some of her work can be found on twitter @poeticnihilist. In her spare time, she is a Lecturer of English.