Ask Grief

“…having perceived you as [one] who is ‘a greater myself’…”

—Teilhard de Chardin

I do learn to free the things
winging into the cage of me.
When the pink morning
makes the orange trees blaze,
there is no saying no
to something that holds
that kind of light.

I stand in the silent bowl
of night ending in flame
and know the endless fire
of a greater myself.

Who can tell
about beginnings
and endings?

About the amount of pain
the world can take
as power-gorged tornados
spin around themselves
leaving nothing but bare ground

I tell myself
you can still believe
it all ends
as it begins
in this light.

Ask the earth
about winter
and seeds.

Ask grief
if love
will have the last word.

For Courage

When hate brews in neglected wounds
and collects like a darkening cloud
to roar down the throats
of the desperate,
let me take my fear in my hands
and mold it like dough.
Let me let grief rise in it
to meet the warmth of an unseen sun.
Let me bake it on the fire of love
to become bread to feed us with light
as we hunger in the shadow of the cloud.
And one of these lifetimes, let our light
grow out from the gray
and touch light.
I will meet you there.

~

Jenna Wysong Filbrun is the author of the poetry collection, Away (Finishing Line Press, 2023). Her poems have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net and have appeared in Autumn Sky Poetry Daily, ONE ART, Wild Roof Journal, and other publications. She practices poetry to foster connection and loves to spend time at home/in the wild with her husband, Mike, and their dogs, Oliver and Lewis. Find her on Instagram @jwfilbrun.

Featured Image: Jenna Wysong Filbrun, 2014

Author’s Note: Spiritual teacher Mirabai Starr says, “The sacred is always brimming from the heart of everything.” For me, poems come from moments of connection that allow me to meet reality with grief, compassion, and joy. These poems each speak to knowing the sacred light of connection even or especially when it can be hard to see.