We weep
that we may have the strength to live.
We wail
that we may have the power to speak
of these things in the times to be.
Let not the days come when we will mourn
for having given life
for having birthed
for having hoped.
Let not the days come
when we bid the mountains fall
or the hills to cover us.
Bid them, rather, to dance
for having loved so well.
Bid them, rather, to fly
for having loved so well.
Bid them, rather, to fly
for having dreamed so long. (Jan Richardson)
Images of this odyssey stay with me. Heart stopping surprise and bursts of laughter through face wet tears. Laying on the back lawn, arms spread, face to the sun, breath robbing sobs and open souled grief. Sitting on the porch looking at new faces, wondering how to know these ones. A family meal with prime rib roast and vegetarian sides. Nights awake staring at the ceiling, my mind a jumble. Possibilities. Promises. A whole life's worth of weeping.
But this month, it seems, is the month to dance, to fly. A birth will happen, and the promise of life will be given to our family again. My daughter has kept a promise and born a woman's load, and will literally open her body to love.
The generations will assemble to witness hope. Little girls leaning in to see from a child's standpoint what life costs. Old ladies touching new skin and knowing the future is alive. A man and a woman holding the flesh that is of their flesh, for the first time.
Such a moment will not be without tears. But the tears are for having loved so well. For having dreamed so long.
As for my heart, I am trusting all will unfold as it should, and that a small place will be made for me. I am the one who surrendered my place in this story, long ago. I cannot steal it back. Somehow, in this great dance I will have to be invited back in. I wait to see how that will happen.
If this blog confuses you, be okay with that. I wrote it for myself. To remind myself that the time to weep and wail is past, and now is the time to dance.
1 comment:
Great work.
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