Grateful to have encountered grand loves in life,
Dusted in all the treasures awarded,
Naturally too, comes pain,
Fortunately,
And it is fortunate.
In spite of the dips,
The ability to feel, to process,
to bear witness
To the strength of boundless moments
In movement.
I do believe,
The space between,
Both the highs and lows,
Is where beauty lives.
Within the crux,
a rawness present,
where pretense and masking is lifted,
And truth resides.
The loss of
Friends, First love, a great love, my Mother.
The unique, & untimely surprises,
Came all too soon.
In waves.
Not waiting, not wanting for the next one,
But understanding that they come,
all the same,
Differently-
And leave behind,
Etch trace memories of a former self
In whispers along the way.
I see now, that these experiences,
do not make me special.
They make me human,
And ordinary,
And old.
I have not yet come out on the other side of what,
this latest version of me now looks like.
As the edges becomes smoothed, jagged, worn out,
Too tired to pretend that this life is worth
Wasting moments punched into someone else time clock.
Grief is a funny thing.
People who have not yet been engulfed by it,
Can not possibly understand,
And perhaps when thrust upon us,
Even too then some are not capable of
Harnessing the energy to catapult & pass thru it all,
Myself included.
Whenever it hits home,
The scope of this fragile life, becomes so So Real.
I am not a widow, nor have I lost a child,
And it does not make me grateful,
That my pain is different,
Nor more accepted,
For I have friends that are, Family that too have encountered such loss.
Do others manage better, succumb deeper, ever fully rebound
Reflecting on my own experience I too,
Am affected
And often left at a loss of words, with
Too much, or Too little left to give.
Overwhelmed, and stunned silent for how truly saddened I could allow myself to be,
Swept away momentarily before grasping for the buoy off their own sinking grief.
Maybe that's why, people don't reach out,
Or show up,
Or call,
Because it's just so big, and too painful, and hard,
Until it's not.
Surprise, we're still here,
And now it's someone else turn, for joys and sadness,
Puppies and home runs.
Starting over,
A quick goodbye
Drawing close the hand of a dear friend,
Or sitting silently with an aging sibling,
In calming moments,
Understanding the truth
of what once was.
As an adult now,
The experience of losing a parent,
Has become my true guidepost
The trajectory of what is acceptable for me in my next steps.
Does this make me feel good?
Does this make me want to put on my armor &
Go out into the World?
Can I muster the will to fight?
Do I have to?
Who do I want to be?
Why am I so angry???
Every day, I check in.
The answers change,
Knowledge allows me space to find a way to be OK,
In the tides. in the turmoil,
The sadness, and uncertainty,
To just keep going.
Surprise!!
It's inherent.
There are moments,
One can never truly prepare for
In spite of the awareness that it is coming.
The When, the How,
The nature of a human response.
The result, a mystery.
And too in sadness,
a painted gift,
of honesty
To once again see clearly,
And accept somewhere there is still beauty.
In the surrender,
Which is not a choice at all
A willingness to be set free
Into the weight of boundless light.
Big enough for all of us to once again call home.
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