Had such a wonderful meeting with someone this morning…a privilege, truly. I thought that some of you might find meaningful one of the poems that we ended with….
Grief Comes with a Ladder
Friend, you ask when it will end.
All I know is that grief comes with a ladder,
though not for ascending. Try to decipher
the language of leaves, other faces, as strange
as they appear. Its alphabet will not make sense.
Nothing, not even birds, exists now as they should.
Never mind them. Their songs belong elsewhere.
Your task is clear. Climb, one hand, one foot,
one after another takes you there. You ask:
Do words help? Remember. The truest prayer
is said before you utter its words. Like the wind
stirs the feather of a still bird. The words
themselves that lift into the air don’t matter,
only the silence and sky that summon you.
I know only this: as you reach the last rung,
as your clothes become threadbare, as hope
becomes a whisper, a reversal happens.
Like water, when it’s displaced by weight,
rises, and is now overflowing the brim.
What took you down now takes you up
One morning, a sign of change:
shade under the leaves of a small tree.
– Richard Solly (for Kay)