I don’t wish for immortality; just another day, upon waking, in which to savor life; even as summer wanes and the leaves begin to fall; even as the news is frightening, the worry palpable.
No. I am not at the center of this latest family crisis. But that fact doesn’t negate the fear or sorrow. Life is inevitably loss, especially for those of us blessed with a long life filled with a multitude of family and friends.
Some days I can’t find the wisdom or words or want to write in the wake of my sorrow. Some days the writing is what carries me through. Today is one of those days.
No. I am not at the center of this latest family crisis. But that fact doesn’t negate the fear or sorrow. Life is inevitably loss, especially for those of us blessed with a long life filled with a multitude of family and friends.
Some days I can’t find the wisdom or words or want to write in the wake of my sorrow. Some days the writing is what carries me through. Today is one of those days.
I think I know death.
And then, death draws near,
again,
like a thief,
lurking in the shadows of those I love,
where emotion thrives,
where death feels painfully personal
and without purpose.
I panic.
Fear erodes intellect,
overwhelming the senses.
My throat constricts
in the grip of grief.
Hot tears burn in the bright
light of defeat.
Breathing becomes a guilty effort.
Time slows,
as if sheer will can
bend madness into
a new reality.
I curl up and embrace sleep, my only hope I might
surface from slumber free of this nightmare.
I awake to discover my eyes puffy with sorrow,
the nightmare stealing joy, inviting lethargy.
My head understands what my heart cannot yet feel.
Every death is carved from life.
Life is loss.
Every loss is carved from love,
love that illuminates my life
because of the brave and beautiful.
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