Poem: The Sadness Comes Like Weather

The sadness comes like weather.

A wave,
a storm,
rain held too long in heavy clouds.

I do not push it away.
I do not explain it.
I do not fix it.

I let it come.

The tears brim.
The ache burns.
My body remembers what it has carried.

Hand to chest.
Feet to floor.
Blanket.
Tea.
A soft room.
The quiet hum of being alive.

The sadness is here.

And I am here too.

I can sit with my sadness and feel it.
I let it move through my body.
I do not push it away.
I allow it to sit and speak.

Deep, deep sadness.

How the room shifted.
How whispers stayed just out of hearing.
How information was unclear.
How the floor shifted like sandbars beneath my feet.

I needed one steady hand in the storm.

But I was swimming in the silt,
in the dark.

And now:
cold and wet on a pier,
sitting,
seeing stars appear,
waiting for a glimmer of morning light to return.

I hold your hand, deep sadness.

It's okay.

I am here for you.