Born of Sorrow....

Born of sorrow so deep

I cracked beneath the

weight of it...only to

find at last I could

see.

Peering through the crack

I saw Grace staring back

at me.

I have lived through these

moments and will be

given more before it is

finished.

Looking through the crack

I saw a small light...

golden in color and though

it was just a tiny spark

down a long tunnel,

I felt the stirrings of hope.

Hope had never left me.

Grace was still showing

me the way...

What do I do with a

sorrow born so deep

I can barely breath?

I pick at the crack...

I want to see more,

feel more,

do more....

And die again and again

from the sorrow if I have

to...

So that I may see who I

really am.

I hold the chards of the

sorrow in my hand...

each one different, but

belonging to me...

born across many lifetimes

and still I embrace it.

What other course is there?

If I run from it I will never

feel sorrow again.  Or joy,

or passion, or creativity,

the breath of my grandchildren

on my face as they lean in

close to hear the story being

shared.  I will never feel the

freedom of watching a bird in

flight.  Or live life.

So for now, Sorrow is my teacher.

She has brought me to an

unfamiliar and foreign place

but I will look deeply and

with reverence...for it is 

here where I need to be.

And that golden light at 

the end of the long and 

narrow tunnel will burn

brighter, with each chard

I place in my hand.

Until the real me is standing

fully exposed...with chards in

hand...ready to be the warrior

again.

I will walk through this sorrow!

And I will become an elegant

weave....

4/3/2010
AWS