The Master Painter

Melissa Neve

1 April 2020

Grief is a Master Painter, who must study us face on
To do her complete work of us, we must look at her face on

We cannot hide, except in parts, to respite from the pain
But as we look and face and feel, we come to life again

For our authentic likeness, she strips out what won’t work
And leaves us there quite vulnerable, even though this part can irk

Acceptance has a part to play, the hardest part to bear
And all the other parts of grief, sit with her in her chair

Impatiently they sit and sit, just waiting for their time
To wield their darts and blows again, never paying for their crime

For acceptance means, no going back, no thing will change the outcome
To yield to that’s like losing hope, and yet, a place to live from

It’s true, no matter how long we sit; there are things time cannot mend
We hope they’ll vanish forever more, as we come ‘round again

We come around in disbelief, to bargain with what’s there
But to no avail, the result’s the same, which leaves us in despair

Despair for things we wish undone, gone from our sight and memory
But somewhere deep, we know full well, things fragile and in jeopardy

That thing so fragile, sanity and strength, if only we could harness
Accept! It’s done! No going back! And grieve for what it cost us!

Every stroke she paints, takes time and care, to bring the work together
She’ll take her time, it’s an uncomfortable seat, but we won’t be there forever

Once finished, colour rich, depth of stroke, might speak to a fellow traveller
To those, who just, a little way in, can’t look lest they unravel

Too fresh their grief, to look her way, as they ward off shock and anger
A little denial to soothe the soul, how sweet to stay and linger

So let her work and mine away, the dark depths of your soul
Riches that emerge, from hell and death, shall surely make you whole