Long-ish Form

Ocean waves, Smiles that dress up dead eyes, Oak trees in their death knell at autumn's core, Bellyaching laughter born of yearning and desire: Here are only a few of her ten-thousand faces. Grief is a beauty, dressed in steel and lace, oleander bedecking her hair. Her cheeks are full, her arms are strong and supple, her legs corded but soft; she is a master of disguise. Grief wears many faces, for she is the many faced god. We westerners get Grief all wrong.

Sometimes, it's just being seen that we need. It's knowing that all of your brokenness is safe with someone else, that’s what helps. Not being fixed, just being beheld.

Gratitude has the strangest effect on the soul.