I know quite honestly
A poem is a poem,
And the words work and find their way
Like worms dancing on a blank canvas
This is why I peer sideways
And paint…
Let’s pause the poem above…
Zoom out
You see this “1 Like” August 22, 2022
That’s Angel.
She assisted me in the administrative work of organizing the backend of this book. After I;
1. Compiled the writings
2. Organized them
3. Worked a few iterations…
4. Went South
She was helping as I was busy buzzing around prepping for the 2nd phase…
She’s incredible.
However, her father recently passed away.
I sent a donation for her and her family in the Philippines. You can do the same as you please.
Angel read and handled my poems about grieving with care.
These were poems I wrote in grief.
This is a feeling we all know indiscriminately.
What follows and what we do with it or what it does with us if ignored we never fully know or we learn in process and time. But one thing we do know is that, we would rather have that person present then feel their loss. Some suppress it and get busy, work until it catches up somehow when the noise stops.
It’s grief.
At first, it's an ocean. Experientially it’s trying to gain sea legs surfing past white choppy water in a storm, you’re exhausted, your arms are burning. For every foot you progress you’re pushed back two. You get past the white water and you can barely breathe. All of this to catch a wave, to mourn and let the sadness be.
You’re waiting for a set of waves that you know will come. You’ve done this before, it was getting dark but it's darker now and you can vaguely see the waves form through the loudness of the rain hitting the ocean at night.
A massive wave comes… You paddle to catch it, shoulders still on fire, lungs in flames and you pop up at the perfect time. You feel the power moving you forward.
And then you fall. This is the beginning of grief.
You’re heading face down into a dark ocean with the force of a giant wave following yet to crash.
Grief is the wave and it will do with you what it will.
DO NOT STOP IT…
Do not stop it. Please.
This wave is large, your arms are heavy, your lungs have just enough strength to take in air as you catapult into the black sea with wave behind. The moment you pierce the water the wave begins to work as you’re somersaulted beyond any comprehension of direction. No navigation system works here. Breath. Body. Water. Memories. Blind and barrel-rolling-over-underwater.
You can fight to find the top and exhaust the little oxygen in your lungs
Or you can let the wave run its course.
I think you should let the wave run its course.
You may feel, it will break you.
You may feel your lungs won’t hold up.
You may feel this is it for you and you can’t take it.
You may swallow water, but you will never drown in tears
Grief will wet your cheeks
You will resurface after the waves have worked their process, to make you aware that you have lost someone special.
And it will make sense why and how they loved you and you loved them.
Don’t fight the waves just like you don’t fight the fall as you’re slipping on ice. You may damage more than you decide all that boarding up what you must feel to be, human.
The waves that used to crush you…?
You’ll surf them to the shore.
Waves turn to ripples. Oceans calm, suns rise. Ripples produce the purest memories, lessons and epiphanies as your ancestors and loved ones are absorbed in you.
And maybe grief is like some sort of right of passage to truly taste and retain cognizance of shapes, sounds and sights of those we’ve loved so deeply.
Grief is the wave and it will do with you what it will.
DO NOT STOP IT…
Do not stop it. Please.
You can fight to find the top and exhaust the little oxygen in your lungs
Or you can let the wave run its course.
I think you should let the wave run its course.
You may swallow water, but you will never drown in tears.
This is a perfect illustration and analogy for grief. I say this becuase when my former fiance died in 2021, I remember this so vividly: the shock was starting to ware off and I was on the floor. I remember in my minds eye seeing a tsunami headed my way, like a giant wave. I am no stranger to death, lost a lot of people to ODs, so I made the conscious decision right then and there to not numb or run from any of it and let it hit me entirely. Ho-Ly-Shit. I don't remember three months of my life after that. I wasn't on any drugs or drinking, that wasn't why. I just remember being in some weird purgatory void in my head. Physically I was here, mentally I was not. But that experience has (and continues to) shape me for the better. It did break me but it deepened my capacity to love and to show mercy and to put pride aside, on a level nothing else on this earth likely could have. So thank you for this. Always appreciate finding others who have touched that level of grief just bc... its hard or impossible to explain unless someone's been there. thanks again.
You may swallow water, but you will never drown in tears! Fantastic close. Beautiful writing. Bless you Angel. In the spaces between the tears, the waves will slowly turn to ripples, and the storms will pass. The invitation to live again finds us in the poetry we will become. Thank you so much.