Grief

I feel like I am at the end of myself:

I weep.

I weep.

I weep.

Until I am a puddle,

Until all the water in me weeps,

Until I am an ocean of sad with waves of grief,


I beg God to reach for me

and keep me

I plead with God: “don’t let me slip through your fingers”

Reason with God: “I am weak”

I demand that God be here for me.


Today, a woman spoke of how she gathers grains of rice from the same holes rats lay in.

She sweeps.

She sweeps.

She sweeps.

Until she has a pile visible enough to boil.

She scoops them into a basket, prepares a meal, and returns the next day;

Tallying up her sustenance, grain by grain.

“God is kind-hearted” she says

“He watches over us and gives us everything.

When God watches me looking everywhere, I always find some rice.”

And I wept some more.

(12–05–2017 — inspired by HUMAN, the movie)

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