Much of my work with Healing Brave revolves around the idea that my time is better spent on what I can and will do now, rather than trying to answer un-answerable questions like “Why me?” or “Why you?” or “Why this?”

I feel that asking myself “What now?” is more appropriate and productive.

That’s not to say I don’t still, more than a decade after losing my brother to suicide, wonder “Why him?” and grieve for what could have been.

We need to be allowed to have those times, too. We need to say “Let me be angry.” “Let me have this pain.” “Let me find my way through it.”

We must be allowed to be real and human. There is always work to be done.

I had one of those moments recently, the kind that are hard to share. A conversation of the heart.

Thank you, by the way, for letting me express those kinds of moments here, in the way of poetry and affirmation. It takes the hurt and lays it out plain.

It’s oddly one of the things that helps, almost more than anything.

Why ~ A Poem for the Grieving

I am light but

I don’t feel like it

Most of the time.

Most of the time I can hold incredible

Depth and

Darkness.

I can touch below the soil

But I can never reach where you are.

I can never hold on without you

Slipping through

The holes in my body and

My memory

That’s never been the same

Since you left.

I am light but

I have to keep telling myself so.

I have to forget your voice

I have to let your pain go.

I court the impossible

And even so, we both know

My heart

You have never left

Empty.

You never could because we’ve shared a home.

This will always be home to me.

I am light and free.

I wear the darkness,

It takes more strength than

You could ever see.

It takes right decision after

Right decision

To keep from being cold.

To hear your voice

Full of life

And not sob for the canyon that

Cuts through my own.

I am light like air

No ground under me.

You run like a river right through me.

I haven’t been able to hold on

To you, in

Ten

Thousand

Years.

You left me with nothing

And everything and

Nothing.

I am light, yes, but still I carry

Such

Incredible

Darkness.

. . .

Please, tell me:

Which part of this poem can you relate to and in what way?

Tell me in the comments.

Whatever you share means more to me than you could ever know.

If you're looking for something to hold on to in your time of grieving, or to give to a friend, here are a couple prints that might help:

~ "Heart Conversations"

~ "In this life, there was you"

With warmth,

Jen

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