I wrote this last week Wednesday, reflecting on–and perhaps in awe of, wondering at–the strength and richness of community. I meant to post this sooner, of course. I had time to. But I didn’t–and I think it’s because I have been without that I post it now. Without community, yes, but also without many other things. I’m not sure what. I do know, however, that this gives me something to consider. Solitude is, for me, a daily requirement. However, I can create that sense of peaceful existence in the midst of others, such as a crowded hang out or a busy coffee shop. This paragraph has turned into me wondering if I should spend more time outside of myself, and I guess this gives me a few reasons why I should try.
There are only sobs,
and the quiet whisperings
of prayers from parted lips.
We mourn together,
awash in every wave of weighted sorrow
and brighter joy,
honoring the dead by witnessing
the grief of the living.
Before I leave, a few quotes from that night that have struck me, stuck with me, pinpricks of wisdom embedded into my soul. I write them in order, because sometimes there is still something leftover, some scrap or tatter that we must wrestle with and gnaw on. There will always be that which we do not understand.
“It seems untimely to us, it seems tragic, but it’s not. It’s victory–she’s overcome death. I really appreciate the silence. Just…what anyone says…it’s not relevant, you know?”
“We could spend the next few days mourning this with you, and it wouldn’t be enough.”