For the Deeper Sorrows
Have you ever had the sadness that reaches down into your toes and fills you all over, leaves nothing untouched? Have you ever known the sorrow that spreads like a fever and keeps you in bed? Have you ever gotten angry to keep from feeling sad or sad to keep from feeling angry? Have you ever just plopped down on your surfboard and rode the wave of grief, let it carry you, blinked the stinging salt from your eyes, tasted its bitter splash?
This is the only image I am finding helpful: Is this sorrow opening me or am I closing, clenching up? Am I constricting or expanding? Growing or shrinking? I open the very pores of me. Grief soaks in.
Grief seeps out. I keep the door to my heart swinging open. Tide come in. Tides go out. Washing away the broken-glass dreams I’ve been gripping too tightly, washing over the sharp cuts on my fingers. Saltwater sorrow stings. But I know these guests are here to clean me out, heal me, make me wide as ocean.