Grief

Grief is such a fickle feeling,   

Waning and waxing like the moon, 

And sometimes sitting still like fog, 

Hovering, hindering sight. 

Sometimes it trickles down upon you; 

Sometimes it rains down hard, 

Flooding, drowning, carrying you 

To where it seems so dark. 

Then the sun shines through the rain 

And memories resurface, 

Those puffy clouds of happiness 

That turn your countenance. 

Yes grief is such a fickle feeling, 

But Jesus is the same today

And yesterday and tomorrow.

He changes not. I’ll rest in Him.