I'm loathe to use the word, but it's stress. The repeated whittling away, the curves belie the point so sharp I could peck through a vault. Why write it here? Why not? Perhaps it's Sophie doing better, knock knock knock, so the rest comes pecking, knocking, whittling away, soft skin yield.
All truths wait in all things,
They neither hasten their own delivery nor resist it,
They do not need the obstetric forceps of the surgeon,
The insignificant is as big to me as any,
(What is less or more than a touch?)
Logic and sermons never convince,
The damp of the night drives deeper into my soul.
Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass
Stress, especially chronic stress erodes, even down to our very souls.
ReplyDeleteGaw. Powerful.
ReplyDeleteCBD? Xanax? I know that's not poetic, but....I am a proponent of chemical stress relievers when necessary.
One wonders what constant stress is doing to us, right down to our marrow.
ReplyDeleteI am so glad that Sophie is doing better. May this continue.
So much breath and warmth and love coming your way. Hug those boys and Sophie and hold them close (and whisper in the boys' ears that they need to stop bickering and clean up after themselves, and also that you love them). I adore you. Holding the line for you. XO
ReplyDeleteWell, I can certainly imagine that even with Sophie doing better there are other forces that push and pull and exert their gravity on you. This is a crazy time of year. Hugs, Elizabeth, and let me just say, although I have never been a huge Whitman fan, that is a thought-provoking (and emotion-provoking) bit of poetry.
ReplyDeleteWhy share it? So we can lend ourselves to help you weather it, as you surely will, again and again, and we will bear witness with you, and send collective thoughts that might help stir the universe, because we love you, and want to know what is real for you. I am glad to hear Sophie is doing better, even as you hold your breath. Love.
ReplyDeleteSo glad Sophie is doing better! Chronic Stress is erosive.
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