This is one of those 3am poems. You know, those strings of thoughts that run through your head in the middle of the night when you're thinking about the person who went away.
I think a lot about how far I've come since my brother died. Then, since my dad died.
How far I've come... still, I think about what I'd trade for all the wisdom I've gained, for all the beauty I've made, for all the love I've done in their name: a minute with them.
Just one minute.
That's all it'd take to send you running to the door to welcome them home, even if it meant throwing away every single treasure you've found since they left.
A hug, a kiss on the forehead, a bond unbroken, a little bit of hope to hang on to. A precious moment worth more than anything.
You can think these things and still feel overwhelming gratitude for what they taught you by leaving.
It's hard to be grateful for how far you've come, though. It's a difficult thing, to grieve, no matter what. No matter how long it's been. No matter what's happened since. No matter what you believe in.
I know that, and I see you.
If you're intent on picking up the pieces and rebuilding something new, but you still can't help thinking how good it'd feel to trade it all away, here's a poem for that.
A Minute With You: A Poem about Grieving and Growing
I would burn it all down just to have a minute with you.
All the lessons learned and the wisdom gained, I would throw it all away.
Every beautiful thing I've made from the rubble you left behind, I would cast it all aside just to see you one more time.
All the love I've found and kept and saved, I would release it from my heart like birds from a cage. If I could just share a minute with you.
If you weren't the one who flew away, I would have turned to you to ease my pain. I would have asked you if I was doing okay with the pieces you left me with that day.
Humbled to dust. Heart, wide open. So much space in the place you claimed when you left.
If it weren't for your leaving, I would not know how deep the heart goes, the distance that can be crossed, how to fill this void with the light of who you were, all the light you still give to me. All this wonder and grace, the strength of your presence that I have no name for.
If you would promise to spend just a minute more with me, I would promise you everything.
I would tell you everything I need you to hear.
I will clothe myself in everything beautiful you left behind.
I will listen for your voice in the wind that pushes me forward. I will trust what you send me from the other side. I will stay, a seeker in the world, and I will look into the trees and sit by the water and tilt my head to the sky. I will tell you about every shard of joy I find.
You can live through me.
I will know you by the way I feel inside, and I'll treasure every minute we share outside of time.
. . .
Which part of this poem spoke to what you're going through, or where you've been?
Tell me in the comments. I'm inspired by everything you share.
P.S. Want these kinds of posts in your inbox? Sign up for Tuesday emails and you'll also get my Healing Brave Manifesto, totally free.