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.

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Tuesday, November 3, 2015

Sharing of Hearts

                         (rock found on the beach at Whidbey Island)

“Shared language is a morning prayer.” Enid Dame

In the stillness before dawn,
when the colors of the day begin
to coalesce in the woods,
I sip coffee and wait for Jo Anne
to come down to get her tea,
smile, and talk about how we slept.

In this forest of owls and compassion
we write into the corners of our hearts,
discover what has been hidden too long.
We share words and listen
to grief’s hammering on our hearts,
hold each other and cry,
rock with the ocean’s rhythm.

At meals we gather to receive
food chosen from the earth’s wholeness,
prepared carefully with loving hands –
salads, Karl’s bread, quinoa,
fresh fruit, dusted coconut balls.
The sharing of food is a benediction.

Late in the evening, after many have turned in,
two are soaking in the hot tub,
George and I speak of being trusted
with each other’s grief, how the weight
of sorrow lifts when it’s spoken.

The sharing of hearts is the evening’s prayer
in a community that holds love together.

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