I am on a journey, for which there is no map. Others have walked similar routes, but none has been quite the same, nor will they be. I am trying to record what I am learning as I make my way through this journey, but there is only so much I can share. On a day when feelings have come out sideways, as four letter words, I offer this. I don’t pretend to speak for anybody else with these words, they are simply my notes.
This is by far the most difficult of these journeys that I have so far endured. On brighter days, I remain hopeful that this will pass. For now, I wrestle with what this journey has to impart. There are lessons, some of which I am learning for the third time at least. I wasn’t aware I was such a poor student that I had to repeat this class. There is obviously supposed to be some variation in each experience of loss, but I haven’t got there yet.
In as much as I can at this moment, I am attempting to continue to write. Pinning down feelings can be like capturing butterflies in jam jars – a near impossibility, unless you are skilled. Nonetheless, I continue to try and capture my feelings.
When this journey has run its course, I know I will want a record of what happened. Poetry seems to be as good a way as any of achieving that. Today’s poem is simply a moment captured, rather than anything else. I don’t intend to speak for anybody else when sharing these pieces, but if I manage to give voice to something you’re feeling, that is good.
I am worn and almost broken by this loss
Yet I must function in this world
I ask only the strength for this next moment
To face whatever may come
Each wave is itself a lesson
I learned this before, and now again
Though breathing seems to be all I am capable of
I am called to more
I yearn to rise above this pain
Or at least to use it, to become more
For the gift of having had that friendship
Now, I must let it shape and sculpt
Hope comes in strange places
And less frequently than before
I look, seeking joy,
And find nothing
There is joy in the memories
But there is also pain
Something which speaks
Of that which will not be again
I once said that I am a ‘work in progress’
That’s a perpetual state
Until I learn everything that life has to offer
And return to That from which I came
Please feel free to let me know what you think of the piece in the comments. I hope to write again soon, when the current darkness allows. In case I don’t post until the New Year, I would like to wish you a very happy and productive 2015, which brings you whatever you may need, and a reasonable amount of what you want from the coming year.
Casey, I am sorry to hear that you are “back there again.” I welcome your words from every place, high or low.
Very nice Casey.