In the light of love, there’s grief
I take my grief and sit with it
And in the light of grief, there’s grace
I soften in all that is outside myself:
storms of loss, patterns of sadness, a world sick and begging for help
And in the light of us, there’s day trips that never happened
poems never told, we watch a movie in reverse
flower back into bud stem back into soil snail retracting in its shell
we never met I never entered your home there is no lighthouse we made up the sea in our heads
Incongruence exhausts me
inner oppositions gnawing my insides
synchronicities out of sync, apple half eaten
we didn’t make it to the gold room where dreams come true
We’ll learn new names
and bodies to call our own; a sad Cassiopeia hanging sadly above us
predicted this ending
In this light of leaving, we grow and glow
no longer incoherent
I trust the ways of water
what you let go
returns
loss sings itself into longing
and longing rivers back to its source
***
“Don’t bow your head too long in the river of despair. Its undercurrents are strong and may pull you into always travelling downstream. Make a choice against its worship. Thank it in earnest for the softening it makes of the hard ground in you, for the vitality it ushers into the stale riverbed of unfeeling, bracing, and holding. But know the true altar of your worship is with the love that broke you open.
Worship at the altar of your being supported. After all, you are the receiver of too many generosities to count. Count them anyway.” – Toko-Pa
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