There is a certain power in grief.
A moment of growth and transcendence,
which then leads to recess,
and a bubbly mirth of movement
a process, which ebbs
& flows then ebbs,
all over again.
What is the timeline for mourning?
Who holds the key?
How saturated or empty can one being be?
It moves.
I have been on this Cruise, since June4.
I don't want to come to shore.
Drifting in the day.
Sometimes rising up.
On a good day I turn my heart towards the sun.
People say,
"It gets easier."
But I don't want it to.
To me that means, I am just crawling back to land.
Forgetting what it feels like to be ripped wide open,
to an understanding of whats important.
As a creator, I can't go back.
The pain of grief is almost indescribable,
because for me, it changes, shifts so much, moment to moment.
And to put words on each feeling seems daunting.
Yet I feel them.
I swim in them.
There in it lies my connection to the spirit.
To the greater.
And still to my mother.
Closer now, without the limit of space and time to separate us.
I am her and she is me.
I just have this, body which weighs me down.
These words, are a mere reflection of an attempt to capture this chapter articulately.
Raw, revealing, honest, unfeathered, lacking perfection.
I am not hoping to make someone else feel better.
Not looking to share my own experience,
but to connect feelings to word in means of expression.
A way for me to stay connected.
To myself.
There is no endpoint for this grief,
no book to set me free.
Where I am is perfect.
I have never felt more alive.
And it hurts, it sucks.
There is nothing to make it better, no cure for a reprieve.
Yet in that, I understand-the spark of what this life is.
And there in that lies something, I can hold on to.
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