There's an old saying amongst players in football talking about your general manger and coaches, they speak with a forked tongue.
This is the forked tongue of grief again. It whispers in one ear: return to what you once loved best, and in the other ear it whispers, move on.
We are given two of most of our body parts, either opposites or similarities, but not the tongue; except for my wife's which is forked.
Fire and swords are slow engines of destruction, compared to the tongue of a Gossip.