Leave Room For Sorrow

Leave room for sorrow.
Allow yourself to feel. Push

those soul-roots deep into the dark

where no light penetrates,

where the way is blind,

and unnamed things

hide. That soil nourishes.

Feed upon it.

Drink the bitter tears.

Resist the recoiling urge

too quickly exercised.

      There will be time enough for sunlight,

time enough to rejoice again,

to reach up for a sunlit sky,

and warmth,

and gods

and pretty words.

But reach down, also.

Drink your sorrow when it comes,

cherish every drop.

Within that drink

resides the proof of life:
Only the living
have the privilege
to grieve.