the, this, that

and otherwise on the unbearable weight of grief after loss

Note: Five years ago on February 25th of 2020, my Dad died. This is me trying to make sense of that in this moment. Soul be well.

the unbearable weight, this unbearable weight, that unbearable wait…

the unbearable -

NO, STOP! wait, breathe deep and listen, the weight that we done been feelin’ now what’s that feeling that i feels?

is that really healing?

now go on: breathe-a-breath-as-deep-as-can-be

(repeat that in a single breath)

breathe-a-breath-as-deep-as-can-be -

cause the unbearable weight is guess, what still soul heavy, lose focus for a second, a micro - a milli, a milli, a milli - second and unbearable is ready for the telling of

i told ya so

this is just how it’s gonna go on

let it just be

but when you stop and breathe-a-breath-as-deep-as-can-be - (repeast 3x)

THEN, wait, okay go exhale, take some time away from “I’m busy” time then you can truly, deeply see that

this unbearable - the weight of it is still there, it’s only bearable because I have felt the burn of how it’s unbearable and instead of straining, i’ve let go, i’ve accepted the (beautiful / stupid / fucked up / all of the above) place of pain in my existence, because of how logical it is, i can no longer question whether or not this fair

this is Life as it is, always was, forever, ever (say it like 3000) will be

the healing is a growth, a perspective shaken, not stirred with a bartender’s choice of time, this unbearable weight, the pain it’s all too real, i’ve just grown with it

have we have stopped to ask the seed how it feels?

as it has to break and push on on past its shell?

then up through the dark of the soil,

how alone that must feel?

as the once seed, now a sprout creeps on up and off’n’on to the Light

the once seed, then a sprout, now a great tree, so full and lush, with branches so vast it can shelter all who come forth in respite for any and all facing…

that unbearable - pressure - just relax when needed and push on with the realization to see(k) that it’s not a fight

but make no mistake, just cause i ain’t struggling doesn’t mean the weight of the Loss, and my grief is any less, cause truthfully it’s all too real, every day since, even now as i write these words so many years later, still i find myself holding back the tears

i’ve written too many poems to count in my life but none quite like this, not a single one like another because each season is the moment

with each stroke of the pen, every dance of the keys - all dem tings dat dey be translatin’

and while today, i’m once again at ease with the unease, cause when you live past Death, when the Truth of sorrow is all too real, the only choice to heal is choose to let go and just feel how fucking fucked up it all can feel

my melancholic meanderings - they a gift cause turns out the depression was always mine. but it took the loss of one so close for me to take my healing deeper

or as some say put in the time aka

“do the work”

whatever (insert here) with choice expletive there

the, this, that unbearable never left, i’m just in a new moment, and i’ve allowed it all to be.

perhpas the greatest gift, is i can’t argue the beauty of it. it just makes too much sense, and for that, as hard as it is for me to say, I’m grateful I’ve lived through the worse, not because I’m in the best but because I can only know the zest having know the edges of the lowest

the unbearable weight

this unbearable weight

that unbearable weight

the weight of loss

coupled with the passage of time

is nothing more than a beautiful scar that I’ve learned to accept