THE GRIEFGLOW MANIFESTO: WHY THIS BLOG?

This blog finds its roots in the losses of my life and my slow, stumbling, but steady path towards healing. Of all the resources I explored when I was newly bereaved and deep in grief, the most powerful ones were those that simply shared someone else's story. The least helpful were those that either tried to fix or change me, or communicated with such mutedness and sadness they seemed to make my own sadness worse. In reacting to such times, I came up with something I called the GriefGlow manifesto, which goes as follows. I am pleased to share it and some glimpses of my journey with you. So, the GriefGlow Manifesto: Because grief is never black and white. Because healing is hard enough without coloring everything around us gray. Because we're just sad, not broken. Because we are a community, even when we feel the most alone. Because a picture is worth a thousand words when we have no words to say. Because we don't need to be changed, fixed, taught, or hurried. Because being vulnerable isn't the same as being powerless. Because our story isn't over. Because the world is as beautiful as it is painful. And because though a little bit of beauty can't change the pain today, it may help us toward healing tomorrow.



Wednesday, July 21, 2010

RUMBLINGS OF DEPARTURE

I loved this small poem by the American poet Louise Glück. Called Departure. it shows us the briefest glimpse of a complex story without explaining what that story is. Yet the emotions, though evoked with indirection and subtlety, are clear. The combination of said and unsaid, present and absent, is often what gives poetry its resonance, and so it is here.


Departure
Louise Glück
My father is standing on a railway platform.
Tears pool in his eyes, as though the face
glimmering in the window were the face of someone
he was once. But the other has forgotten;
as my father watches, he turns away,
drawing the shade over his face,
goes back to his reading.


And already in its deep groove
the train is waiting with its breath of ashes.

The poem is reprinted from the poet's book The House on Marshland, originally published by the Ecco Press in 1975. (The always interesting Ecco is now an imprint of HarperCollins.) The book is now, sadly, out of print, though copies can likely be found at your library or bought on used-book sites like http://www.alibris.com/.

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