I think of a friend who eats out of sorrow,
then, forgets to eat, out of grief.
She sits alone in her bedroom,
like a desert sparrow,
like an owl in a biblical wilderness.
This is us
writing to say, please,
don’t go early out of this world.
And by that we mean to add no guilt, as though you needed more
night,
and no bargaining,
as though to purchase your ongoing presence
with the spectre of our absence.
All we’re saying, is, we recall the fragrance of our easy engagements,
how yesterday, just the thought of your company brightened our hearts,
how even the sand and the shells and the stones
thrilled in your walking,
how a flower opened for your blessing.
Your sullen eyes feel wrong now.
But this is no parody of you, this is you,
here, now, with your pain,
your blinds drawn shut to keep out more loss.
And this is us, understanding as best we can, and saying,
there are no opinions here, no audit of your heartache,
and whether weeping at the brink of day, or
sitting at dusk holding yourself,
or groaning or eating or not eating —
your anguish will not go unheard.
These are our feet, arriving,
these are the ears of our hearts, listening,
these are our arms healing around you,
telling you in touch, remembering for you,
all the way down to your broken heart,
the concert of your spirit,
the flight of your inner monarch
your own perfect loveliness.
Sad, beautiful . I can feel her forlorness, her desperate vacantness . Life is light, beautiful . But the heart can also be overwhelmed by great sorrow
Thanks for this, Ananda.
a timely poem for me to read today. I called a friend last night who could be the focus of this poem. I am one of the few of the ‘we’ in her life. She isolates, enveloped in her depression. My heart yearns to help yet I can only listen. I pray her sorrow will lift, that she may enjoy a simple meal again.
Thank you so much for relaying this Kirk. My heart goes out to your friend, and to you, as you listen. On this journey, how important it is to have people around us, as it is, any one of us can find ourselves on either side of this equation. Sending love and care to you and your friend as you walk through these hard days.
A beautiful articulation of presencing through poetry. My final time facilitating Bereavement Group is next week. It is a lovely poem to share.
Thank you so much Lori. And of course, feel free to share.
I have a lump in my throat as I come to the end of this poem, Stephen, for as you said to Kirk+Smith, “anyone of us can find ourselves on either side of the equation.” I pray, indeed, that your presence may reach down to the depths of her and touch and hold for her her broken spirit. Thank you, Stephen.
Thank you, Ann. That means a lot.
Lovely.
Thank you, Susan.
This morning, this hit me right in the centre
of my chest
I close my eyes to savour
the gracious bit of kindness,
let it wash over me
and settle in
the nearest (and most necessary) thing
to nourishment
for a heart
that
weeps.
Thank you Stephen
So lovely Tamara. Thank you for adding gracious words to this.