I Don’t Know

I don’t know
upon what ground
your feet will fall
when I no longer walk by your side.

Fertile soil?
Shifting sands?
The crumbling concrete of a dying world trapped by its own misconceptions?

I don’t know
where the wind
will carry you
when I no longer hold your hand.

Gentle skies?
Blooming clouds?
Thunderous storms of lightning dancing to the sky-splitting clap clap clapping sounds?

This world,
my child,
this world
I cannot know,
not for sure.

I have no control
over the sand,
over the wind,
over the cruelty that will mark your soul, or
over the awe that will shake your bones.

I don’t know
what life you will live.

But I know you
were born to live it.

And I know how deeply
you are loved.

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Nothing Left to Say

I’ve told all my stories
In the darkest nights
To the kindest ears
Through the burning tears

I’ve relived every moment
Every bitter lie
Every shocking truth
Of my torturous youth

I’ve torn off every scar
From each bulging wound
To tell my old tales
All my losses and fails

But I’m too tired now
And it’s time to heal
Let my tales pass away
There’s nothing left to say

The Inevitability of Love

I know that…

After each raging storm
part the gray clouds, spent of rain,
and the sun must bathe the land with warmth again.

I know that…

After the blackest night,
dark with terrors and fears unseen,
dawn must break, turning the fears into a dream.

I know that…

After the waves recede
from the sandy, naked shore
the ocean must return to kiss the beach once more.

I know that…

After the freezing cold
that the bitter winter brings
must emerge the blooming life of blessed spring.

I hope that…

After my heart mourns,
and from despair it’s learned enough,
it will surrender to the inevitability of love.

Because I know that…

After a heart breaks,
splitting you through your tender core,
it grows stronger than it ever was before.

The Mourning Year

In month zero
I mourned the loss
of a child I would never meet.

Then month three came
and I mourned the loss
of the first true home I’d seen.

Month six came
and we mourned the passing
of the man my husband called dad.

In month nine we
shared an anniversary
where we mourned everything we once had.

Month twelve came
and I mourned the death
of my beloved brother and friend.

Month thirteen has arrived
and I’m tired, so tired,
of this mourning that just won’t end.

I’ve lost all perspective
on beauty and hope
and my dreams being held at bay.

But I give thanks for the love
standing strong by my side,
month after month, easing my pain.

Despite all the hard
and the endless tears,
one thing for sure I now know.

This mourning year
gave me one great gift.
The knowing that I am never alone.