Journey to Your Deepest Self

The Last Flower

by Kathleen MacGregor Because his body sat itself down And I could almost hear… Because he thought he was alone, unwatched, unknown, Because I was home and could afford To spend some time, I opened my arms and heart to him, To us. And because I did, He spilled his worries and his sorrows- The purple bags beneath his blue eyes, His trembling hands, All the things he doesn’t know That he needs to learn To survive in the world, Trees that get bulldozed, Whales, dolphins, wolves And children in wars, The last flower. Because space opened up all around us, Time yawned and stood still And invited the troubles to linger and be tasted, And tell us what it’s like, Because we sat together In our willingness to feel, In our desire to connect, I got to hear him say, through crying eyes, “When will they know they are killing themselves?” “When will we know we are killing ourselves?” Because it seemed much too big for a 9 year old, I was shaking when I held him, And together we loved Not dimmed by grief But...

Thanksgiving

by Kathleen MacGregor On Thanksgiving, when we all come together, gathering up our stories and our stances in our arms, like crops from the field; When we come bearing insistent separateness, proud individuality, spilling our armloads clumsily all over each other, because we have come with more than we can carry, there is a grief. The grief pours down from the middle of us and pools on the ground at our feet. We are standing in it. The grief is dammed. Held at bay, it never makes it to our hearts, our throats, our eyes. Our eyes stay dry. Just because we think we can’t cry here. We can’t show what we feel. Can’t be real. Walking across the room to my niece, to help her with her jacket, I splash through grief. I wade. I swim. She is growing more distant, unreachable. The tide has taken me out. I sink. I watch myself drowning. Drowning in grief suppressed. I watch. And it isn’t until the car pulls away and heads back down the road, gravel crunching dryly, that I reach down into that warm ocean of grief. And save myself, gasping for breath, finally sobbing, ocean meeting ocean, love meeting grief, thanking life for...
Powered by WordPress | Designed by Elegant Themes