all of that
yesterday I was born a leaf a small fragile tender wisp trembling as I hung on the vine
yesterday I hung as mist above the marsh grasses softly whispering to the birds soaring above me as they taught me to sing songs of freedom into each new morning
yesterday I was a gust of air short lived, but not insignificant full of bone rattling cold and hat disturbing bravado
yesterday I was a large, slow, snow flake plopping down like a wet goose feather making the world a magical place
yesterday I was a world made of glass lying shattered on the floor hoping to be recycled into a new and useful planet
yesterday I was various people – a student, a host, a friend, a lover feeling my way into the next moment hoping to find a way home
yesterday I was a tall tree proud yet with humble confidence accepting the grief that winter brings, gently weeping, waiting for spring
yesterday I was a large, dependable mountain made of sheer delights to behold and explore all along the way. The greens of my valleys the grandeur of my peaks leaving me breathless and in awe at every step of my life’s grand adventure.
❤️
Amy Lloyd
<<<<<
everything you thought you had,
everything you expected it was,
everything they appeared to be
seemed to transform unexpectedly
into a silent vapor memory.
And all that loss
found its way
inside your chest
and throbbed against
the pulse of living.
You learned Mourning does not
rely upon an efficient and selective process…
It took a season,
and another season,
and another,
to walk through each
tract of land set before you.
You learned grief itself
is an unmapped journey
you would inevitably experience,
and might become lost
among the non-sequential
complex layers.
You learned we all carry
the death of someone,
something, or someplace
around inside,
and for that,
we need not ever feel ashamed.
A marriage,
a child, a friend
a calling, a mission,
a beloved companion,
a way of being…
Try to stifle the Soul's crying.
Try to bundle up and hide
the monumental Why's.
Only to learn
that to surrender
and fully plumb
the depths of sorrow
can Grief be free
to move and breathe
through the runnels
of your heart.
Even while you own
the newer moments—
even as you go through
the motions of an active
and unfolding life.
.
~ Susan Frybort
life: acoustic & amplified 