Poetry

Perhaps
this is the first time
you’ve had to make sense
of loss.

Maybe,
you are
unfamiliar
with grief.

I.
Time
moves
with a swiftness
that catches your breath mid inhale.
Sweeping the present from under your feet-
you are the remaining plates and silverware
from a yanked-out tablecloth.

The nature of bringing certain things into your life
will require movement.
Shifting, clearing, releasing.
Calling in requires space,
And space is made by letting go.

The place I was living,
my metaphorical house
(body, spirit, self, mind, external world)
came down.
Beyond repair.

Rising from a place of destruction, preparing to face things you’d rather not, is like gathering every possible tool for your toolbelt, ready for excavation.