I write about grief which is like a container for many feelings of hopelessness. I am writing as if we stand on a high plateau, where grief can soar. So often, we get painted into small corners, hidden behind walls of shame, into isolation, and patronized.

The reality is we are bold to face the world with uncertainty about ourselves and each other. We feel the presence of the smooth, cool creek flowing deeper than its dimensions. The raven's caw, breaking the silence on a cold morning, feels like a welcome message. The grey skies have an inspiring grip while the rain is a healing soundscape.

It's within all these details we feel a multitude of presences; a lost dog, remnants of a friendship, a brighter version of ourselves, a half painted mural, everything we have lost to get here now.

It's harder to get lost in yourself when you carry the fragments of your memories somewhere with vast, endless scenery and breathe with confidence that you can see your winding paths.

I never knew the grief I could feel from letting the sun-drenched clouds cradle me.  Looking below is a city I am familiar with, in all of its muted colors and sluggish movements like a worn-down machine. It's hard to feel the open sky's liberation while glaring into the morose solemnity below. The sun's warmth seeps through my skin while my tears grow heavy and fall, first a drop, then a release while the humidity billows up. In this suspended moment, I see gold lining the buildings and the leaves sparkle below. I start to dissolve as I see the  warm, gilded picture of everything, all at once. I feel at ease and dissolve until all I hear is a collective sigh.

driving an old car in need of repairs
you feel every oddity
from the creaky, heavy door and
the every so often squeaky breaks
the manual roll down windows

sometimes you gotta hit the dash
to get your scratched CD playing
old cars have warm static hums and
headlights glowing in amber
the smell of carpeted seats baked in sun

when flirting with the future,
i drove a new car and it felt
much like flying a spaceship
you're unaware of the machinery that
makes it like every other car

I thought rock bottom was
a tunnel with a long dark way down
a hole you need to curl up in
and make yourself so small
out of shame, fear, and isolation
you can’t see or feel anything
and the thought of getting out is impossible

I didn’t realize rock bottom is actually
a golden plateau high above sea level
that you walk around on freely
and you don’t even notice the earth
beneath your feet
you have the same vantage point
as everyone else
looking out at the vast great unknown

rock bottom is often times
a series of events concurrently
pushing your vitality far into a combustible
zone that orbits around your heart

Every decision I make is pushed by the ghost of my younger self and pulled by the blurry image of my future.

you’re a deep canyon
i sit perched on the overhead plane’s wing
with goggles and a glass of tea

you’re a canyon, from here,
just a thin black outline
a giggle and a wonder

i keep a tight grip around
everything that hurts
i keep asking my therapist
"how do we let go?"
and what does that even mean?
she says
to only allow yourself
maybe 10-20 minutes
to think about all these things
and inhale
I never realized I had that power
to do that
and exhale