even in the briefest of moments

As I age
I have come to know grief
between each of the five letters
and beyond the formality of a definition.

I assume we all do.

Grief has its own personality,
an ability to consume your chest,
your muscles, your bones,
embodying the deepest of pains
as you sit submerged
below the water’s surface.

Grief has its own agenda,
prioritizing its need for attention
above your own,
announcing itself loudly
interrupting anything and everything else,
bringing your world to a stop.

Grief ebbs and flows
but never really leaves us
instead
it changes alongside and within us
forcibly holding our hands,
refusing to let go.

Grief has become a familiar sensation
in my body;
I hardly know how to live without it
and, call it irony,
grieve for the past where we had only
met briefly, in passing,
gifting me time to live in naivety.

In my head
I know I am strong
and I can endure,
but in my heart
sometimes
it hurts
beyond what seems to be my capacity.
I know, now,
it’s in those moments
I need to love myself more
than I instinctively consider necessary.

As I walk hand-in-hand with grief
I’m coming to understand
grief encourages recognition
of what we hold the most dear
and in a way,
even in the briefest of moments,
grief can be beautiful.

Even in the briefest of moments.

you thought you had more time

You see the first sign of a problem
emerge,
a blemish on a previously spot-free
canvas.

You tell yourself
that you should have it fixed,
addressed,
while it’s still small
before it becomes something bigger.

Time goes by
the blemish is still there
but unchanged.
You remind yourself
of the need to have it fixed.

Then
without warning
it’s no longer a blemish.

Despite your intentions
it has grown into the bigger problem
you imagined happening
but naively assumed
you had more time
because things had stayed the same for this long already.

Now, it’s undeniable,
the problem demanding your attention
engulfing the canvas.

All because
you thought you had more time
and you believed things would stay the same.

Life will force you to stop

I like to believe
that I have come to embody the notion
of change being the only constant
we can depend upon in this world.
As much as I, at times, resist change,
I like to believe that I have come to appreciate,
and understand, and welcome it.

And yet,
it feels near impossible to accept
how life
can change in an instant –
not just in theory, but in reality.

A few days away
was all we had asked, and hoped, for –
to escape to a different landscape,
reconnect in a change of scenery
and regroup,
for what we envisioned lay ahead of us.
One phone call came,
the vibration of which we barely heard,
and everything changed.

I could count it in days – 2 –
or hours – 50 –
between hearing the news of,
‘something doesn’t seem right’,
to when we were at the veterinary clinic,
taking away his pain forever
and saying our final goodbye.

I never knew my body to be capable
of breaking, of shattering,
of collapsing in such intense grief and pain,
the way she did that day
and yet, remaining here, to carry on.

I cried until my body became dehydrated.
My body caved in on itself to protect the gaping holes
left behind.
I talked through my feelings,
reminisced on stories and photos,
and mourned the opportunities lost.
After a while,
I tried to carry on,
thinking of what he would want for me,
but change is the constant
and I’m brought back down to the couch,
to rest and recuperate and heal my run-down body
despite my best efforts to keep going.

Eventually,
what you are running from will catch up with you.
Life will force you to stop,
sniff the smells on stop signs and bushes,
tail wagging,
and remember how important it is
to savor each moment.

We will never have ‘enough’ time,
so we need to make the time count
while we have it.

clouds gifting chances

Clouds drape over each other
across the sky above,
a soft barrier between the sun and the earth.

Gifting the sun a chance
to be alone with herself
in private
permission to take a restful day.
Her rays permeate the clouds still
without needing to show her full self.

Gifting the earth a chance
to reacquaint with the coolness of coming fall,
embracing the act of letting go
and slowing down, slowly.
Gifting the earth and her inhabitants
opportunities to re-calibrate with the energy shift
and look ahead to changes still awaiting.

Breathe deep, slow breaths
of the cool, soft air
beneath the gray and fluffy blanket
draped over and around us.

nature defies stagnancy

It does little good to plan out ahead of time
how events will transpire
when you do not know
outside of this moment,
anything.

Everything changes. Change is the constant.
From minute to minute
we are reborn.

We may look ahead to the waters we can see
on our projected path
but have you never seen
the unrelenting evolution of water,
its constant movement,
even when the surface appears to be still
enough to resemble glass?
The waters will change by the time you get there,
as will you,
so tell me, what the point is, in
trying to plan and control for things
that do not and may never exist?
Those who attempt this control
allow heartbreak and anxiety and fear
to anchor them in the water,
though the waves and currents and flow of life persist;
nature defies stagnancy.

Relinquish the need for control
and watch the anchors reel back up into the boat.
Allow movement and fluidity and
uncertainty to become your allies.
You can trust them, wholeheartedly,
they will not abandon you
nor lead you to harm.

Trust in the constant of change:
the only constant we know.