“to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you've held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.”
- Ellen Bass
Last night I found this poem that I copied into my journal a couple years ago, I think I may have even posted it here on my blog, and I was reminded of it again today as I read a talk about enduring trials and having hope.
Ironically, I identified with these words then when I was "just" dealing with depression, which certainly seemed hard enough. Now I have this chronic facial pain crap, along *with* the depression, which uh, well sometimes makes me want to swear and throw things. And sometimes leaves me sobbing on my floor.
And I struggle. I struggle to take life between my hands and look it in the eye, this life, these trials I have been given, and say, yes I will take you. I will love you, again.
I will take you. I will love you. Again.
That's what I am reaching, hoping, praying, struggling and striving for.