we are all of us in the gutter but some of us are looking at the stars.it reminds me of a line from a beloved poet i know.
times when darkness, thick, heavy, impenetrable darkness falls
and one is left groping, only to find a hand reach out and grasp the once flailing, your now tired and still lying hand.
these unexpected kindnesses come when those closest to us deem us, stuck. we lose them in the fog, and are grateful for the cloak of it. to hide our pain at their weariness of our grief. five months is not long for one mired in sorrow. five months is a blink of an eye, and the breadth of a sigh. the well of tears still flows and one can only retreat from those who want the griever to be unstuck.
the way of grief is a tedious journey. i have traveled this road before. six months was no time at all. two years and i had finally stopped breaking down.
if i am stuck, then let me be stuck.
what does my acknowledging my stuckness and agreeing with your estimation of my stuckness have to do with anything? except that it wedges a distance between us that cannot be easily broached.
do you think the griever wants to grieve and never let another in?
of course not.
is this the conscious thought of one draped in sorrow?
never.
but today. just today, i hold my heart the only way i can. open it to the ones who will not pour vinegar on these wounds.
and shut out all the rest. until such a time as i can emerge strong enough to withstand scrutiny.
and always, i am grateful for the hand, reaching out.
however uncertain we both may yet be.
2 comments:
In your last grief-laden poem you spoke of falling. It wasn't in my heart to catch you. I couldn't. All I wanted to do was fall with you.
that is courage. i would say.
thanks audrey.
there's a line from an evanescence song that goes: you can't fix me, i'm not broken.
i think of that line often. thanks for not trying to fix me.
suz.
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