Before The Grieving Poem by James McLain

Before the grieving, I kept some not all but youth to keep.
And who she is I dreamed she was.
Since who I am, she is the wind and calmed the sea.
When after hell and heaven came to just before.
Then after is before it was the water there along it breaks.
Or being thus along the shore she struggled on the tower.
Maids and woman change and break the stubborn man.
Up the stalk I climb to fetch the rose.
Or paddle backwards to meet fate the head her master.
She is navigated by the sun,
and yellow young my sorrow twisted by, she never is.
I shot the fingerman with arrows hers passing by the leafy bud.
Falling down unto the ground I heard the snapping twig.
Often do the winds remind the field less of't of what she did.
A cave where water holds no shape,
and sand the sea wont take one angel makes.