All of a sudden there is space.
Empty space.
Soon-to-be-filled space.
Never-to-be filled space.
Space without turtles.
Without charcoal grills.
Without shaving accoutrements:
Strop, lather cup, brush, razor.
There is space to grieve.
Space to sorrow.
Space to weep.
Space to mourn.
Perhaps also there will be space to leap,
To sing,
To laugh,
To praise.
There is space to grow.
For the little cactus on the windowsill,
For the spider plants in the skylight,
For the mother and the son and the daughter in their new normal.
And yet this is not free space,
The space of fields,
Of the ocean,
Of the desert.
Somehow the very expansiveness has weight,
Making the air unbreathable,
Crushing the chest,
Smothering the spirit.
It will not last, this heaviness.
This darkness.
This pain.
It cannot last.
When comes the dawn,
This present will be a shadow.
The sun will stream through unfettered windows,
And there will be dancing
In this space.
"He sent from on high, he took me; he drew me out of many waters. He rescued me from my strong enemy and from those who hated me, for they were too mighty for me. They confronted me in the day of my calamity, but the LORD was my support. He brought me out into a broad place; he rescued me, because he delighted in me."
ReplyDeleteYour ex was darkness, and in letting go of him you now can embrace more fully "God from God, light from light."
This is a beautiful poem, expressive of a beautiful heart.