I am sitting here thinking about why I am so sad. Sad is a bad adjective. I am dejected, rejected, unwanted, unloved. That is more the feeling. The unwanted child. I, the interloper, wounded and lost.
For one moment, too short for my liking I held something in my hand. A precious babble you might say. More like a rainbow that faded as I moved away from it's glory. More, it moved it's glory away from me. I stood still not wanting to break the spell of it's beauty. Afraid to move for fear it would dissolve before my eyes. Suspended, I finally lost it from my sight and now I grieve.
Grief, my grief is deep. My pain is a heaviness I am not carrying well at the moment. I do not wish to grieve. I do not wish to hurt. But the grief is here and now and I am in it here and now. Living it until I heal. Living it, alone. Which is the real grief in the end. I live it all alone.
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