Grief is Love with Broken Wings
I dedicate this to the loved ones I have lost. I dedicate this to the millions of lives lost during this pandemic. I dedicate this to those who cannot yet imagine an end to their grief. I love you, this is for you.
Grief’s deep ravine holds me because it can.
I must allow it to baptize me momentarily, lest I cease to live myself. When I pause, paralyzed by the longing to hold someone who is no longer here with me, I have to allow myself to feel it all. The aching in my chest tests my heart’s alchemic powers.
How can I take an experience so devastating–a loss so great–and find light in that darkness? How can I hush the raging sea inside me that threatens to break with each new day? As the tides of my tears engulf me– how, then, can I escape?
When the arrow of a love one’s loss pierces me unexpectedly, and I feel myself tumbling through memories and wishes, regrets and realizations, gratitude begs me to rise again. It is for this reason I do not fight my grief. On the contrary, I recognize its presence as a reminder that “healing can coexist with ache” (Pessu 32). We are guided by the love we hold in our hearts for our ascended angels. Our wings, once clipped, can rise again to fly towards the sun.
Grief is love with broken wings.
It is not the absence of love. It is not the darkness that you must hide from, in shame that your emotions beg you to listen and see them. It is a testament to the potency of love. When I cradle my heart, and tend to her aches and her wounds, I remind her that love can never be destroyed. The love we feel for those we have lost is real, and it is stronger than mortality itself. It is our love that keeps them alive– within our hearts, within our art, our work, and ultimately our own legacies of love and light.
As I write this, I am thinking of Anani, an ascended angel of mine who changed my life simply by beautifully living his own. I am sad that he is gone, and I am my most melancholic in those moments when I wish I could receive his guidance. But, then I remind myself that I can channel that energy into gratitude for the wisdom he gifted me before his ascension. And that gratitude leads me to feel even more love. This love eventually heals me– and my wings, once clipped can soar again.
I’ll close this out with a poem from my book, Force of Nature. It is dedicated to Anani, and I wrote it shortly after learning of his passing during the pandemic. Anani was one of the few people in my life who truly believed in the power of my mind and my words. He invested so much into me, and I thank God I was blessed enough to encounter a soul like him during my lifetime. I hope that this poem can comfort those who are grieving. It is a poem about love and loss, grief and gratitude– the ebb and flow of the mortal life we know. May it bless you as it has blessed me.
For Anani
my heart feels the gravity of stones
tossed across infinite pools of cobalt blue
and the reflection of your heart
in the skies of my swollen eyes
my goodness, you are
still
love personified
and though your touch evades my grasp
and my heart
threatens to crumble
with each passing day
your words float within me
they comfort my soul
though this life is finite and fickle
my heart will forever know the warmth of your smiles
my spirit will endlessly toast to the man you are
as mortality rears itself
to the forefront of what seemed
unfathomable
I carry myself afloat
upon the clouds of hope you left within me
and as I levitate higher
further from the ground
I hear your angel voice calling
me to ascend
in remembrance of you
Thank you, Anani
Thank you
If you or someone you know is experiencing grief, know that you are not alone. I see you, and I feel your pain. I am still understanding the best ways to channel this energy into love and positivity. It is not easy, but it is possible. Your feelings (whatever they are, because grief is not linear) are valid, and healing is coming for you. Keep believing that better days will come. I believe we can find collective healing together.
You don’t have to heal alone.