on a piece of paper.
Cruelly I was yanked back to
a single, carefree moment, set with
childlike innocence in the middle of life
and its activities. You didn't know
what was ahead, nor did I. If only
we could return to that instant of
unknowing, when you were as alive
as the movement of the pen on the
page and as playful as the hand
that held the pen, and linger there
in the delight of the simple present.
A crushing wave of sorrow has
pulled me under with its powerful
undercurrent of despair. After thrashing
about, searching wildly for air, I have
surrendered to the darkness.
Even while I wait, however, whatever
remains of my consciousness senses
hope. In the very waiting, I am soothed.
In the very surrender, I might be
healed.
to loneliness. Make heard the depth of your despair and the breaking of your
heart. For what remains unspoken
can never burst into healing song.
who knows exactly what to do.
Each of us possesses a natural
wisdom that will guide us during
this most difficult of times. By
turning inward we will find our
way through.
