Do not grieve...

Don't grieve.
Anything you lose
comes around in another form.
The child weaned
from mother's milk
now drinks wine & honey mixed.
God's joy moves
from unmarked box
to unmarked box
from cell to cell.
As rainwater down
into flowerbed,
as roses up
from ground.
Now it looks like
a plate of rice & fish,
now a cliff covered
with vines, now
a horse being
saddled. It hides
within these till
one day it cracks
them open.