Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable. Mary Oliver
“I can’t imagine ” she said.
“One of my children dying …
forced to find a way to forge on.”
How could you envision it?
I think. You’ve had no practice
watching your life shatter.
Can we ever fully grasp another’s suffering?
Each goodbye, each break, each loss,
so different from the rest.
Parents left child less,
siblings no longer,
spouses all alone.
Categories don’t tell the whole story,
just as the field
can’t tell the tale of single flower.
Where are the words to tell my friend
about the longing that comes out of nowhere or
the empty bucket of what should have been.
These lives of ours have such thin walls
with heavy roofs held up by hope and held breath.
The butterfly effect enough to bring the whole thing crashing down.
Leaving a life in disrepair
like a rundown hotel on an abandoned interstate
its rooms dark, the “VACANCY” sign eternally lit.
How to explain the primal need
to keep running our hands along the darkened walls
searching for the light switch?