I wrote this back in May, under a bright moon at Portlock point:
Does the moon look down on us and laugh once in a while?
Wink to the ocean, its close friend?
It’s a silent witness of all that is here on earth.
If the ocean thinks I’m small, the moon smiles at my pettiness.
photo credit: David Chatsuthiphan @ Unreal Hawaii
photo by Darryl Torckler/The Image Bank/Getty Images
I’ve lost sight in these past few days, possibly weeks, of who I am and what I want to be (as a person). Caught up in my swirling thoughts, I have been running, trying to figure out what is next. In this confusion, I have created inner and outer turmoil. I feel like a tornado, lost in the spinning, pulling those in around me and dizzying them into confusion.
There has been a lot of change in the past couple of weeks and I am trying to learn to sit and wait for a new path to emerge. Instead of chasing after something to fill the empty space and distract me from the anxiety of the unknown, I want to just sit. It’s unlike me and I fear complacency and sloth.
It hit me today that it will be a year my mother died in just a few weeks. Will I be okay? As I sit here and write, I do wonder. The grief can hit you like a tidal wave and drown all your senses in pain.
Almost a year, hard to believe. The pain hasn’t gone away, though it has lessened. I’ve had dreams and memories of her lately, though even more so, longing. I long for a mother. Not the one who raised me but the mother I’ve needed and wanted for so, so very long.
* Song by Neko Case