My heart is so heavy with grief for the loss of all those lives in Newtown, Connecticut. Sunday’s weather summed it up: rain, cold, skies so low they could be touched. No respite.
No words will ease the suffering of those who lost loved ones on Friday (although there are many ways to help). I keep thinking of a poem by Miroslav Holub. It’s my favorite poem. When I am very sad, I say it over and over in my mind, and that’s sometimes the only way I can handle whatever burden I shoulder.
It’s more about the rhythm than the words, and that must be the case here, in Connecticut. Who can say? Who can imagine that kind of pain? Who can even say, “I can’t imagine how you feel,” because isn’t it obvious?
But I think what Holub was getting at in his little verse “Ode to Joy” is the point, if there is one, not that there was a point to the violence on Friday, but the point is that we love in spite of all the ways things could end badly, and we love despite knowing that one day our hearts will break.
Our hearts break, and the only way to keep going to is love again. Again.
- minimanicemoon likes this
- laurencroswell reblogged this from caryrandolph and added:
- annatodd likes this
- nguyenpathy likes this
- neverdoubtlife likes this
- eerriinnbbaaeerr likes this
- anindependentguinevere likes this
- lizmooremusic likes this
- dieworkwear likes this
- jumpingfeetfirst said: Completely beautiful and spot on. Thank you.
- thirtymilesout likes this
- hellokatie likes this
- caryrandolph posted this