What shall I tell you? That you will survive?
You will(there are so many of us), and
You'll wonder why. BUt pain keeps one alive
As much as joy does.  Let me take your hand,
ANd I will say no word beyond what we
Can bear who know so well what hell can be,

Now it it time. Perhaps your grief's become
As much a part of any Monday as
Your daily bread.  It's Tuesday's tea. On some
Sweet Thursday you----surprised---have laughed.  Ah, has
The world grown round again, and is the nigh
Less long?  Grief is a tunnel, but there's light
WHere tunnels end. I promise, life is meant
To savor still. It's simply---different.

BY MAUREEN CANNON