How long does this road wind up-hill?
I’ve been climbing since that timeless day
When my life suddenly stood still
And in one spot I seemed to stay.
I’ll change my shoes, and feel at peace.
But, that only makes me more aware
that avoiding my climb would increase
the load I carried and strain to bear.
Well, I’ll wear my sunglasses, but it doesn’t provide
help as I can’t seem to find a guide.
So I’ll take my cane, and I’ll find my way
Or beside the ditch, I’ll have to stay.
You would have figured out by now that I’m not a poet. Sometimes it’s a good exercise to use grief words when writing. As part of this poem, I thought of a time when I was about twelve and showing cattle with my father. The thought “My heifer should have won that class” haunted me during that fall fair.
As a kid, how did I overcome the grief of loss for that life event? I wouldn’t have used the words grief or loss. I wouldn’t have known the feelings that filled my mind and heart actually had a name. I remember my dad saying, “There’s always next year”. Like the poem suggested, I could change my shoes or wear sunglasses or pretend (maybe that will be my next verse). But the loss still remains in my mind so many years later, although it doesn’t have a tug on my mind. Chuckle! After all these years, I still think my heifer should have won that class.
Think of a memory in your childhood that you wish were different and write a few lines in your journal.
Grieve and Grow 