Is Grief The Price We Pay For Love? Poem by Sue Stone

And is grief the price we pay for love?
A basement, with no bargains here.
The cost is pinned to my forehead.
Insane 3D goggles revealing
the sight of a sky now yellow.
Grass that waves with feeble grayness
at a sun, now beating a bilious green
across my desolate features.
Rhododendron flower in your garden now.
This gives me harsh comfort.

Spring?
With lipstick pinks, pursed damson, harlot red?
Colours for a clown's face;
Clown's colours, callous humour,
mocking your demise.
Birdsong; harsh klaxons, shriek
at my deafness.
Welcome, black crows' feathers
to shroud my despair.

I am indignant,
in debt,
overdrawn to my limit,
with outrageous emotional charges.
Yet this grub pecking creature
remains,
unsated,
clawing greedily at my tears,
pecking at my breastbone, coveting
my soul.

I am aghast; it will not rest
until emotional bankruptcy is declared.
The sheer depth, vastness, span,
breadth of these formerly
unappreciated words.
Grief. Bereft.
LOSS of my reason to be.
This price is too high.
ENOUGH!
Spare no expense.