Both of my parents loved the autumn. They died within 60 days of each other. I had not dealt with the grief. I needed to go to the mountains. I needed a rock in my pocket. Here are the ramblings and tumblings of words in grief as I journeyed to find that rock. Not knowing I would return to this place of grief and growth often, and especially in the autumn.
I watched the sky.
I wondered ‘why?’
I watched my pain
Formed into rain.
It renewed the earth as it fell.
The earth sprung up
Into the mountainous skies.
The beauty of the mountains acted as shards to Soul.
I caressed the shards with my eyes; wanting them to cut deep.
Cut away the dross.
Cut away the loss.
The peaks were covered with misty fog.
The peaks were covered in rain.
The peaks were breathing in glorious snow.
I was very jealous.
I needed to feel that connected.
I wanted to lie on the top mountain peak.
I wanted to caress the forest’s floor.
I wanted to know.
I wanted to be.
I wanted to be real.
I craved renewal and purpose.
I needed to be free of the pain of your passing.
I wanted to feel.
I longed for a mission.
I had to have the compulsion to go onward.
I did not feel anything like that at all.
Then the Sun came out.
It silhouetted the trees
Covered them in a raindrop-halo which glistened.
While they danced in the breeze beauty poured over me,
Beauty bombarded Soul, beauty went through me.
I drove away whole.
Now in the rear-view mirror
I have my direction.
I will return to the mountains
I will walk through the valleys and peaks.
I will do the next ‘right thing’.
I will be a mountain or raindrop.
Depending on the day.
I will be in touch with my life.
I will learn to say “no”
To the needs of another
When my own needs are intense.
I will return to these mountains
when I need to get in touch
With my departed parents
Whom I longed to hold so much.
I put a rock in my pocket.