2013-03-04 – grief in a warm place

Venus cuts right through the winter night sky her charm alienating me and disturbing me in the empty spaces I cling on to.
She appears as I feel in the middle of darkness, angrily trudging her way across the distances of time becoming more lonesome and uncaring. And in her wake she is too fierce to ignore now.
I am standing knee deep in snow again and I see the drifts built up against the edge of the river bank as I connect white with darkness. As I look up I see Venus watching me with her callous stare and I stare back in dark reverence. I see her glare down at us humans on Earth and I want to rip her out of the skies and smother her in this snow. I want to suffocate her light because heaven and I we have never met. Not once and she’s holding onto everything I want.
So I stand between the bare trees, their branches outreaching and unprotected in the cold, trunks stoic in the ground, ancient roots buried far beneath the Earth. And I appreciate them because they’ve done the impossible. They’ve recorded what has happened on this land in their rings and as I lean my face against his petrified surface I feel every knotted, organic weave of bark and am grateful to be in this presence of safety.
Peace of mind for a secluded moment.
No warm blood knows I’m here except Coyote. I hear him off in the distance howling and am immediately comforted. I want to bury my face in his coat and cry. I want to put my arms around his thick coated neck and breathe in his wild smell and be comforted knowing that our kin share all the same grief. But I don’t want them to feel what I’m feeling. I don’t want anyone to feel what I am feeling and he howls once more calling to his relatives like I want to call out to my own. His echo stays with me, loyally by my side since the beginnings of my time.
I watch my breathe escape my body into the cold and then dissipate. I am soaked up in my surroundings. It all seems so vast and wondrous and I wonder when I can finally be at peace like my breathe letting go and allowing itself to be absorbed into nothingness. I watch it for a few more minutes nuanced by the act of warm and cool meeting and then vanishing all at once and then I figure maybe that is what life really is all about.
I hear the familiar snaps and creaks of the woods and in the distance I can smell old wood burning, their stories dying in the air just like my breathe and I’m sorrowed knowing that we will never hear them. I take heed knowing that someone is staying warm in this frigid air and that this is what co-dependence should be like. A meeting of life and death at the same time, to gain an equal understanding and satisfactions. It’s hard to see who gains and who loses but the smell of it right now is that of dying stories in old wood being burned and that too comforts me. I could smell wood burning all day and never be of want it’s memory taking me far into the past and I wonder if past lives really do live on in people.
A tree branch gives way under the weight of snow and it’s crack and fall stunts me into a more wakened state.
And it’s way into the early hours of morning and I’m in the woods, being careless and I should know better than to wander off without notifying anyone.
But that’s all you want when you have to grieve.
I give thanks and make my way back to the trail leading back to my warm bed.
I climb into my covers and stare up at Venus through my bare window.

We will always be at war.

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