Mortal Boulders

To someone out there in never never land, I got your back. I don’t know who you are, or where you are or when this will find you. But I’m here for you. To the spouse that pulls in the driveway and is so numb they can’t get out of the car, I’m here. I hear you. I feel it. The suppressive weighted numb- I’ll hold it with you. I’ll lift. I’ll carry it. I’ll shoulder it, just leave it here with me so you can open the door. So you can inhale again and keep going. The hurt is real. The numb coats everything. It is everywhere and in everything. It lingers. It mutes. It abides. I haven’t figured out yet when it goes, I only know it comes. But I want you to know you got this. It’s okay to feel it. It’s okay to hold the hard. It’s okay to just absorb the uncertainty and the fear and the pain and the sorrow and the grief and the loneliness and the unrealized dreams and every other spec of all of this. You hold it close. You feel it long. You drink it deeply. You own every piece of it, because it is all yours to own. It is all yours to feel. It is your mortal journey. It is your path of becoming. It is the boulder that now weighs you down to the very darkest depths. But when this passes, because I promise it will pass, that boulder that now smothers you will become your anchor. Your rock. Your foundation. Your stepping stone. You will know ever square inch of it. It will become a forever familiar asset and with it, you will rise and you will see with greater wisdom than you ever imagined other acquaintances and with power you will love them. You will become their shoulder. You will lift where you once could not breathe and will be the breathe they long for. Learn it, feel it, let it become a part of you. Let it be a well worn, ear marked page in your journey. Don’t be ashamed of it. Turn to it. Reread it. It will become sweetness to humanity and unfettered love of all mankind. But it is heavy. So go ahead now. I’ve had lots of practice holding boulders of this size. Lay it here at my feet. I’ll watch it for you and it will be here when you get back. It is for you and you alone, but leave it here with me for awhile. I’ll keep it safe so you can rest.