Sometimes there is notÂ
enough space
to contain all of the grief.
You try to move it aside
to create more rooms within you
but the doors and the windowsÂ
are all locked
and there is nowhere else to go.
So you focus on the sun pouring in
the sound of birds,Â
chirping their way into spring.
You smell the coffee brewingÂ
and remind yourselfÂ
that you are still here–
that all of this is real,
the mundane and the sublime
and the bits of sorrowÂ
that waft into your day
unannounced.
You try to hold it all at once
but it weighs a lot
and you need to stopÂ
to rest your armsÂ
along the way.
You simultaneously savorÂ
and fear the quiet,Â
trying to wrangle restless thoughts
and dreams of what might have been.
You remember kindnesses and smiles
essential bright spots in a world on fire.
You hold onto what you can
knowing that it all slips awayÂ
eventually.Â
You are just like any other–
This life is all happeningÂ
and you cannot make it stop.
The train has left the station,Â
This dream is not a dream.
Your time here is short,
so stock up on blue skiesÂ
and coffee smells,
birdsong and the way you feel
seeing the blossoms burst forth
impossibly pink.
This is what we’ve got
and it is enough to sustain us
as we sit aloneÂ
or dare to let down our walls,Â
welcoming othersÂ
into the roomÂ
of our many sorrows.
