05/10/2025
To be reminded of death
is to be reminded of life.
Grief, so precious, so tender.
She moves with unapologetic grace
she comes without warning.
She carries with her
a gentle fierceness.
The sound of her voice
can move mountains.
She doesn’t even know her power
it lives in her the way a flame lives in fire.
She moves like a storm,
sweeping away all the broken sediment
the attachments, the old wounds,
the comforts we cling to
just to feel safe.
Witnessing her
is like watching a phoenix
rise from the ashes,
teaching us to alchemize our pain,
making way for fresh life.
Many shy away,
unable to withstand her brilliance,
How do you hold
that which cannot be contained?
She cannot be convinced or restrained.
You can’t reason your way through her depths.
She can only be felt.
When she arrives,
everything slows,
and what is essential
becomes undeniable.
Only an unguarded heart
can traverse her portal
and find the medicine inside her storm.
It takes a body willing to soften,
to break open,
to receive the alchemy she brings.
You must be present to feel her
Raw.
Stripped.
Vulnerable.
Surrendered.
Willing to let her in.
I feel her move through me.
She humbles me deeply,
reminding me of my own mortality,
my own fragile humanity,
clearing away any guardedness,
making room for openness.
Allowing me to feel
the deep connection with
the trees,
the earth,
the sun,
the flowers,
the smile of a stranger,
the laughter of a child.
She invites me to wake up
to the ever-changing nature of this existence.
She clears the path for gratitude,
reverence for this life,
the full spectrum of the gift
of the human experience.
Inspired by my dear friend Jess,
and in tender remembrance of her father