"Things take the time they take." - Mary Oliver
Last couple of days there's been a recurring sadness. A pervasive tear drenched sadness. 6 months of silence from someone that professed to love me has created a deep mere of ruin that I fall into sometimes as I journey over the bridge. A bridge I continue to build to save my heart and my life. Three years of joys, hardships, trust, and growth inspiring work, then nothing. Now I am left with some kind of healed over wound that feels like a bruise to the touch. Some days I worry about my ability to repair the damage.
Maybe, trying to find some lightness, maybe just because it feels good, I move around in the world as freely and as joyously as I can. It doesn't seem to matter. Randomly, it appears, pokes, writhes, swells. I'm trying to write about it so that it can just be. Words are hard. Pain is not easy to describe.
And then I get angry at myself for letting it happen again. For not just being able to get past the grief. For not just despising. For turning my head in the direction of anguish. For not focusing in the direction of the beauty that still exists in the world. For imagining that she has the power to hurt me with her self absorbed choices, denials, and reasons. For being angry at myself for being human.
It could be that anger is just easier, somehow kinder than grief but still, a disingenuous substitute. Of course there is always time. That ancient, annoying, trustworthy cliche. Time will you wash me clean of this soiled memory? Will you leave only the moments that move from one to the other, always with perfection?
Small Prayer
by Weldon Kees
Change, move, dead clock, that this fresh day
May break with dazzling light to these sick eyes.
Burn, glare, old sun, so long unseen,
That time may find its sound again, and cleanse
Whatever it is that a wound remembers
After the healing ends.
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