Tag Archives: grief

It is time – past time.

I can’t feel your pain.
I’ve tried, I even thought I knew
How you felt.
With nowhere to go,
No safe place to know,
It would all be fine.

I can’t feel your pain.
I’ve tried, by reaching back,
All those years,
When I was abused,
Frightened, and alone.

I can’t feel your pain.
I’ve been tired,
I’ve been hungry,
Even, yes, even
Had my life threatened.
But I always found a way,
A way to live another day.

Perhaps I understand,
In some small way,
How deep the ache,
How sore
Your soul.
But now I see,
It never goes away.
For you it’s every day.

The air you breathe,
The ground you walk,
Is filled with hate,
And fear,
And terror.
Barely in the shadows,
But growing ever stronger,
Reaching for us all.

As hard as I try,
It seems no more
Than Insult,
to your
and battered
to say,
I feel your pain.

Perhaps, as small
As it may be,
My voice can help,
My life can show,
That hate
is never,
the answer.
For the love of all
Creation has provided,
It is time.

It is time to end the pain.
It is time to be there
For the black,
For the Muslim,
For the gay,
For the PEOPLE,
Of our earth.
One person at a time.

I will do my best.
I will share.
I will talk.
I will try to reach
And hearts.
And I will hope.
I will not say,
I feel your pain.
But I will be here.
I will hold you.
And one day, together,
We will find the dawn.

Sunrise 3


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Filed under Humanties for the Unbound Mind, My Journey with Job, Personal Journeys, Poetry

Yahrzeit: A Day of Remembrance

In Jewish tradition one observes the passing of someone close to you four times a year. Yom Kippur, Feast of Tabernacles, Passover, and Feast of Weeks. And then there is the annual remembrance, Yahrzeit. Yahrzeit is observed on the anniversary of a person’s death, using the Jewish calendar. In my case that would be April 17 of this year. My husband was half Jewish but I know his abhorrence for that time of year, so I choose today; the anniversary of his departure on the Gregorian calendar.

To understand the tradition you must know something of the Jewish approach to such things. There are periods of grief, but there are also periods during which the memory of the person is preserved in all of its living grace. A way of learning to treasure those that went before us, and a hope of the path we will follow into some unknown “then.”

I’m not terribly good a formalized prayers, so I have chosen to write a poem. If memory serves it may be the first in a year.


He left me in the spring.
Not in the dead of winter,
When cold, gray skies surround me.
When days are short,
And love itself,
Huddles ‘neath the rain and snow.

He left me in the spring.
Not in the chill of fall,
When brilliant colors oft betray
Arrival of the frost.
And love itself,
Feels the bite, and seeks the warming hearth.


He left me in the spring.
Not in the heat of summer,
When days are long and hot.
When the grass grows brown,
And love itself,
With thirst, seeks cool and breezy shadows.

He left me in the spring.
When birds sing, and trees grow green.
When flowers bloom and life awakes.
Perhaps to show me future hope,
When love itself,
Becomes the strength
– to face life on my own.



Filed under Personal Journeys, Poetry

Appropriate Footwear


A few weeks ago I made a journey to the sea. It was a short journey. As I tell my friends, close enough to visit but not near enough I may have to run. Way out here on the far western edge of the Washington peninsula we have the choice of the Pacific shores or the beaches of bays and coves. My new home is less than an hour away from both Ocean Shores and Westport. My visit this time was to Westport.

I chose Westport because, unlike Ocean Shores, I had never been there. I had, of course, hoped that my husband would be with me on this adventure. It was not to be. So for my first visit to the pounding surf I chose a safe route – a new memory.

There were a few hiccups. I no sooner arrived at a lovely sunny and windblown beach than I discovered that the batteries on my camera were about to die. For some reason beyond me, the backups I usually keep in my camera case were not there. Well, wasn’t that lovely. The second issue was that I, well, didn’t seem to be in appropriate footwear. It was tempting to just carry my shoes and stroll barefoot through the sand. I’m not quite ready for that.

I still spent time, watching and listening to the surf. Letting that timeless beat ease some of the pain of being there alone. I always loved the ocean. Whenever I was stressed, unsure, tired, frightened, worried that things in life had just gotten “too big” for me – I escaped. To the shore, or to a mountain, or a vast moonless sky, but always somewhere bigger than me. Somewhere that made “stuff” smaller, more manageable, more doable. This time it was the ocean surf. The heartbeat of the earth. How much closer to nature can you get and still be a separate entity?

I drove into the tiny coastal town of Westport and wandered through the shops, found some batteries, and had lunch at a seafood place. I walked the piers and managed a few pictures. Hesitant, first steps toward being a “me” and not an “us.” All in all, it was a pleasant, though bittersweet day.

This weekend “holiday” from unpacking, rescheduling, house fixing and whatever else is going on in my life, helped me pause and take inventory. There are times when you lose someone who truly was your soul mate that the loss grows into a deep and hungry black hole sucking the life right out of you. But there are also times when that love is so great that it won’t let you quit. Will not let you forget the dreams that can still be lived, or the person you have grown into because of their care. I think I’m learning. I just need to do better at having appropriate footwear, oh, and a few extra batteries.


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Filed under Personal Journeys