Grief and Paperclips

Griefs, like paperclips,

Entangle and snarl

Beneath the canister lid

Where, stashed, they wait till

Solitude and opportunity converge

For examen in the light of God.

What do they do in that dark tin?

Do they come to life like toys

When I turn aside?

For when I remove the lid

And pinch the one on top,

Just the one,

A scrum of griefs, old and new,

Links arms, emerges together,

Collapses in a knot

On my open journal.

Calling on my Father's help,

I place the bewildering snarl

In His able hands.

Griefs, like paperclips,

Entangle and snarl, but

The maker of galaxies and quarks

Can and will untangle

In His time.

~crm, 8/8/22