Come On In

An Invitation to Grief

Photo by Deepthi Clicks on Unsplash

Sadness arrived this afternoon
with a furtive knock at my door.
I was comfy on my couch
and did not want to arise.
Did not want to greet her.
I wanted to remain alone.

She kept knocking
and said, quietly but sternly, through the door--
the outside wind-worn, but still protecting what lives inside--
"I am not alone. And I have brought a casserole of grief."

Without arising
I peeked out the curtained window
separating me from her,
separating me from all that accompanied her.
In her small, cautious hands I saw a covered dish
and beside her stood Anger.

"Would you really keep a guest waiting," she asked.
"Would you unwelcome a visitor at your door
in need of comfort?"

I have no comfort to offer you, I replied to myself.

"You are unnourished. Let us feed you. Let us serve you."

And I became aware
of the emptiness in my belly,
the hollowness of my bones.
I felt the heavy weight of soul hunger bearing down upon my chest.

I arose.
I opened the door.
I invited them in.

Come, I shall make us some tea.
Come, accompany me. Sit with me.

Sadness lay upon my floor.
Anger moved restlessly about my room.

And I, I sat on my comfy couch
and plunged my face into a casserole of grief.

We shared a cup of tea
and I let them stay.
For as long as I needed them.

---

May you be happy.

May you be healthy.

May you be safe.

May you live with ease.

Namaste