One locale on the map of grief

It was a dry grief,
No tears
No lubrication
Sitting hard and dark as a great stone
Too large to be passed whole
Nothing to wear it down
No grit scraping away grain by grain
No way to cleave
Pulverize
Or fracture it
Missing, the hopeful beginnings of disintegration

It sits inside, lurking
Alien
Like a silent tumor
You know is there
Pressing down
Blocking the flow of the salubrious
Perched like some great predator
Frozen, immobile
But never to move
Never to strike
Never to kill
Never to devour