The unknown dose

I studied grief as it were a place

I found the hidden  pathways of the lost

I learnt its secret corners and its space

For every kind of grief there is a cost

How shall I pay the price for what I’ve learned?

For I am old and I have spent not saved.

Do we ever get what we have earned?

Who will teach me most before the grave?

The cow will moan and cry for her lost calf

The mother who miscarries knows the pain

Then those we love most dearly must depart.

We will never know the like again.

Woe and joy are knitted very close.

We must take them both in unknown dose.