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Artist
In my experience, grief comes in waves that can easily overtake whatever fragile shore I manage to land upon in the moment. At first it can be a scouring wave, sometimes with a terrible undertow pulling at the foundation of any tentative emotional stability I may have built. But over time each wave laps a little more gently, and eventually it is possible to feel softly bathed in memory rather than drowning in loss.
The prompt is the final stanza in WH Auden's "Funeral Blues"
