meanwhile the world goes on . . . but how can it? when your own personal world is collapsing, falling apart, seeming to end. another cappuccino sold on the street from that cute little coffee cart, another warning given to a speeding car on the freeway (where was he going in such a hurry?).
meanwhile the world goes on . . . while your insides feel as if they’ve been crushed into powder, when nothing adds up or makes sense or seems real. another tulip shoot bursts through the ground, soon to bloom. will it be pink or yellow or white? will someone be there to watch it open? another ticket through the turnstile, the subway ride home.
meanwhile the world goes on . . . but time stands still for you. life has chilled your enthusiasm, made you doubt your existence. another book checked out of the library, stamp-stamp-stamped with that impossible future date. another baby entering his new realm, crying to establish his identity, to make himself known.
meanwhile the world goes on . . . and you will too. eventually. not today. slowly, after digesting. gently, after healing. with a new appreciation of what the universe is capable of both giving and taking away.
another rooster crows good morning. maybe, just maybe, it will be.
*******
[this freewrite – inspired by one line in mary oliver’s poem wild geese and written in just under 9 minutes – is dedicated to all of the coaching clients i’ve been so fortunate to work with on the subject of grief. it’s something i’ve personally thought about over and over since my own beloved mom’s death 22 years ago. hear me read it aloud . . .]
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