AfterShock

Clearing my head last Saturday really was so helpful.
I could breathe.
My brain could breathe.

But it has been hard too.
It opened up space to look at more grief.
And even when I am not *looking* at grief,
It is all around me.

My sister is cooking and singing.
I don't want to squash her
Or even the feelings it all evokes.
Think I'll go clean my bathroom.

Some place where my tears can be unhindered.

I am so emotional these days.
There are so many pains that threaten to undo me.
The smallest blip and I'm tearing up again.

I try to be thankful for the tears.
I have not always been able to cry.
It is bondage to have all that saltwater dammed up, rotting in your soul.

Saltwater.
Yesterday I spent plenty of time in saltwater.
Ocean water.
It was cold.
I was warm.
It was breezy.
I was calm.

I felt as if I had finally found a refuge.
If even for just an hour.
I tried to find my voice.
To talk with the Master Of The Wave.
To really let all the tumbled, jumbled thoughts out.
To not worry about anyone needing anything.
To not have a time slot whose bounds dared not be overstepped.

In the spirit of Calypso's mama, I took to writing in the sand.
To be able to honestly put in letters what was weighing me down
The hardest part.
Then to let a wave wash it away.
I have given it to Him.
I must leave it there.

False starts.
Incomplete words.
Watching the waves.
Rehydrating in the chilly water.
Feeling pulled to be real by the Light of the Son.
Wrapped in warmth by rays of sun.

I am grieved beyond words as this new day dawns.
If I really am going to leave those pains
washed away in the great Pacific
as a picture for my own reminding,
Then I must lay it down again. Today.

I may have lost.
I have also loved.
I am not lost.
I am loved.
I must claim that.
Keep it in perspective.

In my time of searching I had to know that I would not be washed away.
I found others to remember.
Babies held by the Father rather than their mama.
Some have names.
Some are just fleeting memories.
All are loved, wanted and missed.

There were some struggles that I photographed.
Some were just too hard.
But nonetheless I gave them to Him.
The pain.
The confusion.
The struggle.
There is no solution for most of them.
It is just a matter of trust.
Believing He will hold me through the storm.

I have such a hard time with that just now.
I feel so alone.
Yet some days I catch glimpses that I am not.
I try so hard to hang on to those moments.
And yet to not let them become god.

Clearing The Fog

Hannah
Communion
Lynnelle
Tears
Glass Walls
Cut Couches
Backache
Weary
Lonely
Strugging

Eli, Eli, Lama Sabachthani

Stuff

There are so many things that threaten to undo me.
The greatest just now is the stuff in my head.
"What stuff?" you may ask.
The only response you will get is a blank stare and 753 head shakes.

I don't know.
So much confusion.
Should I?
Should I not?
Can I?
Will it kill me?
Will it make me stronger?

I wish I had punching bag.
I really do.
At least I could burn out the frustration.
Then maybe I could see clearly enough to sort out "the stuff".

Reflections On Loss

I have a glass wall in my head.
Behind it lies a lot of emotion and turmoil.
Some days I can see through it, others I run blindly into it.
Some days I feel as if I am handed the keys to unlock the door.
But I always turn away in fear.

The tears that leak out from around that wall are strong enough I fear to open the door.
They will wash me away.
They will swallow me up.
They will rid me of ever feeling again.
So I throw back the key. And wait.
Wait for a mop.
A flood control plan.
A way to make sure.
Sure I will not die, drown or wash away in the deluge.

So she asked me if there was a theme?
Is there a sticking point that I really can't get past.
I said "No" because nothing stood out to me. Then.
But I have realized there is.
It is Loss.

So what have I really lost?
The loss of the first touch.
The loss of bodily control.
The loss of rite of passage.
The loss of being seen as a person.
The loss of motion.
The loss of recognition.
The loss of choosing.
The loss of connection.
The loss of freedom.
The loss of innocence.
The loss of support.
The loss of joy.
The loss of wholeness.
The loss of clarity.
The loss of sureness.
The loss of simplicity.
The loss of knowing.
The loss of being trusted.

Thoughts For Stilllife365 Challenge

Tears in my dishwater. Rain in my coffee. Drenching. Fiery hot. A flood of love. A deluge of pain. Joy and sorrow. gift and hope. Awash in the fire Storm in my heart Baptized in Sorrow