grieving

all day
you take an axe to the wood.
slamming
the broad thick
blade against
the turned log.
again and again.
bang, bang.
you stack it neatly
to the side.
you have other things to do.
but this
seems the right thing
now, as you take
your shirt off
in the hot sun
and wipe your brow.
you feel the weight
of sorrow as
you swing the axe
again and again,
bang, bang.
striking hard,
splitting the wood
until there is no more.