Keats says, “Touch has a memory.”
So as the light grows thinner and everything around me but you more obscure,
I find myself recounting all the common moments where you have been mine,
All the everyday acts that make up a lifetime of love.
If it were up to me, I would live them all over again simply to raise my tally
Until my life was nothing but an endless memory of you,
that I might take with me into the dark.
I have come to know simple truths that before were
disguised by my complexity. I have come to know the inner
vision that sees with much clarity. I’ve come to know me, the
gentleness of my spirit, as it may express itself through love and
tenderness. I’ve come to know power in a way that’s personal and
creative. My personal power of choice. I’ve come to know love;
love of self and others is the same. I’ve come to know the oneness
of all who walk the planet in an attempt to journey home.
Remembering it over and over
leaves my soul downcast within me.
But I will call this to mind,
as my reason to have hope:
The favors of the Lord are not exhausted,
his mercies are not spent;
they are renewed each morning,
so great is his faithfulness.
My portion is the Lord, says my soul;
therefore will I hope in him.
~Lamentations 3:20 – 24
Let sorrowful longing dwell in your heart,
never give up, never losing hope.
The Beloved says, “The broken ones are My darlings.”
Crush your heart, be broken.
There’s a woman who bears witness to all the sorrows of the world; the agony of loss and deprivation, and the seemingly endless cycle of misery and anguish shared eventually by the whole of humanity. She teaches us that our suffering is not in vain, that it does not go unheard or unheralded, but instead prepares us for the tenderness we all so desperately need. She comes to you in your darkest hour, when you have at last become unmoored by suffering. The kind of suffering that hollows you out, divesting you of all the frivolousness of life, allowing for something truer and more precious to take root.
If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way into the fall. I would go to more dances. I would ride more merry-go-rounds. I would pick more daisies.
I would bring the tenderness I’ve learned from dark, heavy days and offer it to the world. I would love fiercely and unabashedly, starting with me. And with my whole heart, I would offer you the gift of my being and hope for your offering in return. I would live boldly and shine as brightly as the stars from whence we came.