This is different from my usual posts. It is a bit raw as I am processing a lot of things. Call it a poem. Or a glimpse into my heart and mind. I considered scrapping it because it’s. . .well. . .a bit on the weird side. But then I thought…maybe there are those among you who can relate and would find some comfort from a glimpse of the dark and deep heart of a fellow traveler through this imperfect and unpredictable life…so I leave you with my thoughts.¬†

Love, Handprints —


It rolls and boils and pulls and drowns and smothers. I push and hold on and cry and agonize and beg. The sadness sits in the pit of my stomach while I move on with my day. Always there. Always waiting to suck me back in when I’m finally alone. And so I endeavor not to be alone. While craving alone. While running from alone.


It pushes and tangles and screams and yells and punches. Sometimes a cry and sometimes a roar. It sits in my throat and burns. It frowns and fights and rages and simmers. Sometimes I yell. Sometimes I sob. Always I run. I am afraid. It is a red, angry face of terror. I get lost in busyness to silence it. But still it simmers. And it is irritable and cranky. And it craves control and clean and neat and perfect.


It runs. Always running. Always forward, never back. Always pushing, breathless, late, relentless. It makes lines and scars and nostalgia. It makes the happy yesterday and the sad look like darkness on the horizon. It’s the sand that runs through my fingers no matter how close together I hold them. It won’t come back. Always forward toward the unknown.


Always chasing. Can’t look straight in its face because of what I might see. Death. Sickness. Loss. Old age. Loneliness. Terror.¬†Grief. Anger. Time.


Perfect love casts out fear. Grief is here to stay. I lost him. I will lose them, too. If not now, then later. Always before I am ready. I will never be ready. Because I love. I love deep and wide and long and from many angles. Because He made me for love. And I am glad and angry and sad and afraid of love. Because it is so beautiful. And so painful. And so rich and so deeply agonizing. But to avoid pain is to avoid love. And I crave love. I long for love. I open my heart to love and allow it to wound me deep. Deeper than I would have thought possible. I bleed as it burrows deeper and I groan as its pain shows me levels of hurt I never truly understood when I stayed in the fear. But it also shows me a contentment and a raw kind of joy I never experienced before I stopped and let fear catch me. Let anger roll over me. Let grief bowl me over like a giant tidal wave. Realized that time is forever and doesn’t really exist at all. Because He is eternal. And He is love.

And as I surrender to Grief and Anger and Time and Fear and Love. There is Peace.

Because there is still Love.

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