Every Wednesday

Every Wednesday, I will post something about grief. Sometimes it will be a reflection on an aspect of grief’s landscape. Now and then I will share from my own journey of grief, because in the sharing of our stories we find strength and build a community of people that support one another.

Tuesday, September 8, 2015

Wilderness of People

Don’t give me baby blue or pastel pink.
I want grief’s red ochre, sapphire, emerald green.
Don’t give me nice or pretty.
I want the wild, unkempt, unknown.
I want the wilderness of people.

Don’t give me the waltz or John Denver,
Winslow Homer, tutus of Swan Lake.
I want the tango, Georgia O’Keeffe,
Pilobolus, Tom Waits,
the gypsy of Django and Leadbelly’s blues.

I want the scary climb up the mountain peak
to feel clouds swirl around my feet.
I want the surging chaos of mountain streams
that carve steep canyons through battered hearts.
I want mountain lions, black bears, moose.

Do not hide death from me.
I want the mystery, laughter, tears.
I want tamarind and spicy Thai curry,
lamentations howled with a circle of friends

raucous and tipsy under the moon.

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