Raw and vulnerable
I feel a little vulnerable today. When I write about the suicide of my son, a multitude of emotions are dragged up and relived.
I can’t write about it from a neutral point of view. It is impossible to revisit that hell and not be touched by sadness, it lingers for a while.
It’s a disturbing rollercoaster ride of thoughts and emotions, and memories I thought I’d almost forgotten.
My heart is raw and
I feel a little lost. Please send positive energy and thoughts.
Namaste
Dear Friend,
Within the gentle embrace of a short poem, I offer you a vessel for your grief—a moment of shared understanding.
Soft wounds of the heart -
Aching echoes, sorrows told,
Memories whisper, softly fold.
Pain turns like pale leaves,
Drifting downward, past their prime -
Love bridges deepest sorrow's chime.
Holding you in quiet light,
Gentle refuge for the soul,
Comfort's warmth, makes wounded whole.
Your vulnerability is a sacred space. This poem does not seek to heal but to sit beside you, to bear witness to your journey of remembrance and love. The poem mirrors both the fragility and the quiet strength of the heart.
May these words be a soft companion to your soul.
With deepest compassion and respect,
sending you love and comfort.