Advice after Losing a Spouse

For now, breathe.
No need to get ambitious.
Let morning roll over you,
taste the salt, the grit. Find shade.
Maybe that slim birch just learning
to sway, kneading the silt of creek bed.
Maybe the white oak with acorn caps
still attached to top branches.
You might find squirrels. Squirrels are good.
Don’t try to take in the sky – it’s too wide and high.
You have to sip first, then swallow,
stepwise, methodical. It’s best to go slow.
When you find the cliff, the crumbling
limestone shelves, when your toes hang over
the edge of the high dive,
I’ve found crows can be helpful –
the sleek wings, glossy eyes seeking
the hidden glitter, scouring the high grass
for silver keys, blue glass, a bronze coin.
Distraction works for a time – give yourself
those freebies. The cost is high for the rest.
You’ll want to save, budget for the days
that take risk, the boulder and avalanche,
all that snow and ice.
You’ll daydream a lot, shuffle wishes
with might-have-been’s.
That’s natural. Don’t fight it.
But don’t argue about fairness.
You’ll never win that debate.
Find yourself a cherry tree instead,
stand within its sheltered canopy, behind
its fringed and fragrant curtain where the light
is dim and the air is clean and kind.
Breathe and breathe.
Stay as long as you need to.

Sandy Coomer’s poetry has been published in numerous journals. She is the author of three poetry chapbooks, including Rivers Within Us (Unsolicited Press) and a full-length collection, Available Light (Iris Press). Sandy is a past poetry mentor in the AWP Writer to Writer Mentorship Program, the founding editor of the online poetry journal Rockvale Review, and the director of Rockvale Writers’ Colony. Her favorite word is “believe.” www.sandycoomer.com