Spear. Dagger. Shield.

Grief is a friend I have known for many years. Like a thief, he pulls so many tears. Drop after drop, they trickle down my face. Helpless to quell feelings of longing and loneliness. And then warm hands stroke and embrace the damaged sides of my aching body. Welling with fear, doubt, and regret, my chest pounds harder, but now I feel his heart beat with mine. It'll be ok. He calmly speaks. Reassurance his virtue, patience his spear. He stabs into the anxiety, the insecurity, the loneliness. In its place, a new sense of love. And although like a dagger, he rips out his kindness, I feel a sense of completeness and solace so still. He looks at me, with somber blue eyes. He has to leave now. He slides his spear slowly from my back. Pulls out each dagger, and I feel the tracks of blood trickle down. My wounds are wide open. Someone else will sow those shut. Rest assured. I know it will hurt. In place of my daggers, my embrace, and my spear, you'll find a shield. One that lingers, and stings a little less. One whose weight is heavy, but protects your breast, from the things that torment you. I see the tears in your eyes. With patience and faith, you wont be denied. So for now dry your tears and silence your suffering. For love will see you another day.