“The Sacking of Grief by Stewart Stafford Thou speaketh of grief as a funeral cowl lashed, When 'tis a thorny, haunting cuckoo's nest smashed, I wouldst cast it off, fain if choice be mine, And not necessity's wickedness stretched supine. Peace's changeling to restless beds doth creep, In conjoined prayer to restoreth salvation sleep. To crawleth awake in dawn's incessant weight, Can I tame this sleepless lion and walk it straight? I confesseth sins, but the blemish remains, Call it regret that stalks these guiltless brains, Would a surgeon's blade cut me free of it? And I in luscious orchards, the solaced fruits bit. O, in slumbering dusk the leonine roar doth cease, And the pathway home heralds sweet release. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” PainGriefSonnetSleeplessnessShakespeareanEmotional PoetryHealing PoetryHope PoetryShakespearean Sonnet Author:Stewart Stafford