Date With Grief

You’ve been lurking in the shadows for a while.

Your wet droplets surge and cloud my vision until my hand wipes you away,

signaling “not now. no. not now.”

Enough of catching glimpses of one another,

skirting each other’s gaze

Today we must sit together. 

It is time.

A long overdue date.

I hadn’t even finished readying myself or my space for your arrival and 

waaaahhhhh…..you burst out, catching me off guard. 

A moment opens up and I say, “whoa, grief. hold on. I don’t remember consenting to THAT.”

I take a deep breath. I ground, connect to the sacred and invite in my allies.

Musical notes wrap around my heart and melt away all resistance. 

Grief then whisks me away….

to the desert and I fall to my knees.

I shed dry tears, heave in silence and silently cry out to the stars.

Grief calls out to me gently, “there’s more. it’s ok.”

Then grief ushers me to the ocean. 

I surrender. Full-body waves. 

Water over me, under me, through me, out it pours.

And pours.

And pours.

I’m exhausted.

The beat of the music picks up and grief grabs me by the hips.

“Come. let’s dance!” 

Every cell of my body moves to meet my dance partner’s summons.

And……we……dance.

As the hour draws near, Mother Earth pulls me close and says, “come. lay down. you’re not alone.”

Belly to belly, I feel her sensual embrace. 

“Oooooh, you feel so good,” I say. She squeezes me back.

I realize in that moment what I had forgotten that I am now remembering. 

“yes. re-member this,” she says.