I Cannot Grieve the Way that I Should
Though grief has come alive in me,
I cannot grieve the way that I should
Or think I should,
Or feel I should.
Just where my grief and sorrow live,
My tension lives as well.
And it seems proper that I should pull the world down upon my head,
Or, as the man says, “swallow all the sorrows” of my friends,
Or of my love.
But I cannot.
I would if I could.
But inserting itself into growing despair,
An uninvited hope,
An “all shall be well”,
That keeps grief from boiling over.
And unties the knots in my gut.
Not illusion.
Not “peace where there is no peace”.
Hope, not fear.
It is not feeling nothing.
It is feeling everything.
(He soaks up grief like a sponge.)
Though joy has come alive in me,
I cannot rejoice the way I should
Or think I should,
Or feel I should.
It seems proper that I should stand on tables,
And dance,
And shout,
And wave my arms.
But I cannot.
I would if I could.
But each bubbling joy is laced with sadness.
Remembering that “all is not as it should be”.
It is not feeling nothing,
It is feeling everything.
(He soaks up grief like a sponge.
He turned water into wine.
Cup of sorrow.
Cup of joy.)
Each week it is, “Christ will come again.”
A day of climax for sorrow,
And for explosions of joy.
Dancing with tears and laughter.
But today…
There is a place where joy and sorrow meet,
Where they co-exist and co-mingle.
Moments of piercing grief (of a ‘working breast’),
Are bathed in unanticipated love
Unexpected forgiveness
Mercy
Laughter.
Opposite things both true in a timeless moment.
The sweetness of pleasure tinged by absence,
Joy lessened because it is not shared.
Greater joy, greater loneliness.
Now I am alive to it.
And now,
Just remembering that such a meeting place exists
Brings darts of ecstasy and pain,
And both run through my essence at the same time.
Warm and empty
Hollow and full,
It is not feeling nothing.
It is feeling everything.