Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Grieve like you really mean it. A freestyle poem for tough times.

morning dew

Freestyle, no edits. From my body, to my heart, to my mouth, to your ears. (With some fun technology tossed in the middle).

The audio, in real-time:

 (5 minutes)

Grieve like you really mean it
grieve like you really mean it because life is hard but you’re still alive, you still have this
this look out the window at the bird on the shovel hanging out of the wheelbarrow in the afternoon light
you still have this
this shadow of the chair standing still against the wall while the shadow of the leaves dance around it
you still have this
your beautiful body in the mirror, that woman you’re learning to make peace with amidst all the pain, all the things you never thought it would come to

grieve like you mean it because you are still alive
and it is a blessing to feel sadness so deep
sadness you want to find someone else to blame for
sadness you want to break things over
sadness you wish you didn’t have to feel
yes—I’m talking to you
to that part of you that knows, not in your head, but in your body
how badly you need the sadness
for all those winters you avoided the cold
for all those summers you stayed by the fan
for all the times it rained and you had an umbrella
you need the sadness
us humans are good at creating shelters, homes to live in, comfort, stability
but even we cannot avoid the pain that comes with being alive
even we have a price to pay
and maybe it’s not so physical
maybe we don’t as often suffer the terror of tsunami
or the chill of a tornado… ripping and ravaging our towns

but we are left broken-hearted
we are left alone in our rooms when we thought we had forever
we are left at the doormat of the home we no longer recognize because it is not embodied and imbued with the life of our parents or our children
we suffer, we suffer despite our shelters

suffer like you mean it
wail. do not wait.
wail loudly. now.
if there is suffering in your heart, find the song, find the poem, find the picture that breaks you apart and let go.
you deserve it.
to know that you are part of all things that have to suffer
it is the price we pay for life, it is the price we pay for beauty, it is the price we pay for breathing and for smiling and for laughing and for orgasming and for kissing and for eating delicious foods and tasting blueberries explode in our mouths; it is the price we pay
it is its own form of beauty
all that have had a lump stuck in their throat for years know that when they finally break down in tears, it is freedom
grieve like you mean it
grieve like you mean it
The invitation:

Deep loves,
I've been in a dark hour of the soul over here, transitioning and growing up in ways I was never expecting. My answers to these questions are emerging like flies on the wall; an overflowing trashcan, asking to be emptied into poems:
  • What’s between you and that life-changing release of grief? 
  • What gets in the way of letting your guard down and letting it all out? 
  • When you do… when you grieve like you really mean it, what are you letting in?
  • What or who are you forgiving?
  • And what happens, in your body, as you go through this experience?
The comments are yours for the taking. Simmer on it. Speak to us. Or muse in your own private space. Extra credit if you're currently in an especially tender spot in your life.

I honor and appreciate you so much for being here.
madlymadly for you,


Sassyangelac said...

You have been in my thoughts for days and days now. Your pain calls to our pain. We hear you at a cellular level. As long as it is true it can be borne.

Corinna said...

Sweet Rachael,
I'm sorry you're in pain. But I'm glad you're letting yourself feel it, fully. The thing about this growing up that you never expected? Well, you never expect it 'til you're in the middle of it getting your ass kicked, but on the other side you're 30 and you wouldn't change a thing. You're going to be so, so good. (Well actually, you already are.)

GailNHB said...

I am not currently in a deep place of grief, but was not very long ago.

The only thing that got in my way was my fear of what other people would think about my outbursts. Once I let that go, once I found space and time to be alone, to wail, to moan, to curse, to scream, to punch pillows, I found myself breathing better; I was better able to handle the grief that still needed to be processed, and I felt like I was being healed from what was breaking my heart so profoundly.

And the more I let myself grieve, the easier it became to let the grief out, to make space to let it out, and to acknowledge to myself that I really was in grief. It became a self-fulfilling moment in my life - I let the tears, the poison of fear and anger flow out of me and then let the joy and peace and strength begin to flow back into my mind, soul, and body.

It wasn't an easy or smooth process, but it continued until I found that I didn't need to cry anymore. My journey isn't over - this relates to an illness my daughter will have her entire life - but I now know how to move deeper into and thru my stages of grief as they come up.

Anonymous said...

wow...this is deep and moving.


there is a sisterhood of grief, and sweet one, let me sit with you in this space

where we are still alive.