Ellie, This poem is very fitting relative to the message about the gates of grief. You have shown an amazing sensitivity, intuition and on-point poetic response that speaks to me. I am living today in gratitude for a new day. Thank you. Love and peace, Karen
On Oct 30, 2023, at 7:00 AM, Ellie Stock <elliestock@aol.com> wrote:
Hi Karen, A preliminary response . . . also attached. Ellie :) elliestock@aol.com
I THOUGHT I HAD SHED ALL MY TEARS
I thought I had shed all my tears, a lifetime of tears, drops rivuletting canyons in once smoothe skin, cascading into deltas and emptying into a sea of sorrow, now parched and dried like my once choking and burning throat. I thought I had shed all my tears, a lifetime of tears, sobs of shock and pain muffled in pillows, deep shaking heaves trying to catch breath, threatening to suffocate. I thought I had shed all my tears, a lifetime of tears, of hurt and hurting, of remorse for the done and undone, the betrayal of and by those close, the final separation from loved ones, land, and what is most cherished, of sleepless nights and prayers like drops of blood for the sick and dying, of births that never were. of fading health and dreams. I thought I had shed all my tears, a lifetime of tears, screams and cries of anger, fear, and anguish over the corruption, consumption, and killing fields of Earth and all that is in it, billions of years extinguishing in the embers and ashes of truth and justice, communities and trust shattered, innocent suffering, sacredness violated, sorrow unbounded, lamenting echoing lamenting, looping and looping and looping, grief unbearable, unconsolable, overwhelming, numbing, dried, vacant eyes staring stoically into the void, filled with harpies advertising, urging, encouraging to eat, drink, and be merry. But how can I sing while mourning in this strange, foreign land? I thought I had shed all my tears, a lifetime of tears, no more left to be wiped away. I woke up in the middle of the night, anxiously awaiting dawn, but the heavens were weeping, lightning and street lamps the only light, cloud-bursting, four winds swirling, thundering, torrents and storms of tears, piercing the soil and bouncing off asphalt, quenching the drought-thirsty trees losing autumn muted colored leaves, trying to cleanse, to refresh, to renew, to regenerate the parched planet and also piercing my soul, drilling into unbeknown, untapped fossilized tears that melted, trickled, moistened eyelids, then gushed, flowing, cleansing and renewing. No rainbow but deep gratitude and stillness and a new Covenant with a new day and All that is in it. Then I calmly reached for a box of Kleenex. ejhs 10/30/2023
On Sunday, October 29, 2023 at 06:53:03 PM CDT, Karen Snyder via Dialogue <dialogue@lists.wedgeblade.net> wrote:
This week the Daily Good had an article by Francis Weller called “Drinking the Tears of the World: Grief as Deep Activism”. Weller articulates four gates of grief that I have never known how to acknowledge before: 1. Losing someone loved 2. Neglected places of soul such as as a sense of shame and feeling of inadequacy 3. Losses in the world of species, habitats and cultures 4. Loss of community and rituals that keep us connected to our soul
With this understanding one realizes that everyone grieves. I find myself wondering how much anger and hatred in society covers a deeper experience of grieving.
What is your response to this writing?
Peace and love,
Karen Snyder Troxel_______________________________________________ Dialogue mailing list Dialogue@lists.wedgeblade.net <mailto:Dialogue@lists.wedgeblade.net> http://lists.wedgeblade.net/listinfo.cgi/dialogue-wedgeblade.net