Loss into moss ... a poem (Hexagram 41 changing to 56)

Let go of a weight

a stone

a long-loved

ache

that needs 

to die.

Chances are

(change being

what it is)

that the ache

will wither

like moss:

gently. Its velvet

return will arrive

like a soft tide

with Spring

as you circle

back home

to this lush

bed of loss

to feather it

with a ringless

hand, and your

freshening tears.