Loss binds us together
Like the aching low moan
of a cello—you feel it first;
other senses follow—
feel it in that place
where the keening cry of a wounded heart begins.
In loss we could be family.
In that shared knowing and need;
in these chances to rebirth kindness to each other.
from Incantations for Rest (p. 20)
|Author||Atena O. Danner|