Grief Walking

It doesn’t always come with death.

Photo by matthew Feeney on Unsplash

I plod an empty path to work. One route, ten times a week. I don’t look up because it’s always the same. It could be crowded with pedestrians, overflowing with rain, covered with leaves, or lost in snowdrifts. These conditions may sound different to the wanderlust blessed, but they are all equivalent to me. My feet tread upon a continuous oversight; As with my hands to the objects…