
Drowning
I am sleeping with the fishes.
I'm underwater.
I am drowning.
There is no air to breathe; no hope of air.
Going down and down,
falling further from the light
towards a darkness that invites me in.
Everything that ties me to the land
weighs me down in my descent.
Helping hands can't quite reach my own.
I don't try to reach for them.
I don't want their help,
I seek only one hand in the darkness below.
by Cheryl J 10/12/08
A very beautiful - and honest - expression of grief. Thank you. When we can accept that surrender, very often healing begins to happen. All blessings to you, honored lady!
ReplyDeleteI shouldn't have said "begins to happen" because it has already begun. Like the surrender and the grief, healing comes in waves, each bit when we surrender a little more to the honesty of the pain.
ReplyDeleteI read this twice and each time I felt a stir of emotions. This is how so many feel at as time that grief seems to surround them and you have done such a moving beautiful way of putting it into words.
ReplyDeleteI too agree...the healing had begun and it is a process that only you can captain.
This is something I would love to share with my grandmother, if that is ok. I think she could relate to this after loosing a son in March.
Love you!
HUGS
Jesa, thank you. I believe that healing comes in waves too, but I'm finding grief comes in layers which I think is a form of protection. To feel everything at once would overwhelm us. I've been told that the 6 month mark is the pit and I'm just coming up on 5 months. Healing has begun but the pain isn't over yet.
ReplyDeleteJen feel free to share this with your Grandmother. I can think of nothing worse than losing a child.
ReplyDeleteMy thoughts and prayers remain with you Cheryl....
ReplyDeleteThanks Jerene.
ReplyDeleteSo evocative. Such a good metaphor. I wish to send you peace.
ReplyDeleteThank you Bennett.
ReplyDeleteIt is like that.
ReplyDeleteTwenty six years later it is sometimes (though rarely) like that.
Sally, I knew you would understand.
ReplyDelete