The weight of it

I carry loss and grief within me although it has not yet come to knock me out.

There are of course small doses every day from the gradual demise of our planet and larger ones from catastrophes unfolding elsewhere in this world. They seep into my soul dripping black heavy toxic tears onto the inner canvas. 

There are the almost-personal tragedies of people known to me who suffer from illness, pain, hardships, or loss and they cut like small glass splinters into the sole of my right foot to be felt at almost every step, Band-Aids not sticking. They slow me down, which is good, to smell the roses. 

There is the noticeable decline of my mother’s well being, watching her world shrink and her body break the rules of engagement. 

Some days I am at peace with it all as is, loving what is now and here and not worrying about the tomorrow. 

Some days it eats me up with sadness as some strange form of farewell is already beginning to unfold and spread.

Some days I think really big of the universe and the Age of Aquarius coming into full blossom that will shift energies toward humanity’s health. 

Some days, like today, I am floating on my back in the salty, choppy, chilly waters off my favorite island blinking away what is either ocean spray or tears of gratitude or both, thinking: this is me putting on my own oxygen mask first.