The pit of grief

Reflection on water: Mandurah Marina, West Australia.

The abyss is dark and bottomless
although sometimes I think
if I sit long
and stare hard enough,
I might be able to make sense of it.

My questions are futile
and fall without echo.
It gives nothing.

Nietzsche wrote “if you gaze into the abyss,
the abyss gazes also into you“
I’m aware of the reflection.
The depth gazes back at me
trying to find the end.

It has a way of opening space
within me, making the hole larger
but in turn making me bigger too.

I wonder what will come of it.

Footnote: no, I’m not depressed, just aware that grief morphs and changes and is doing its thing. It is never further than my shadow. It’s hard for people to deal with, hard to talk about, hard to sit with. I spend some time sitting and not fighting it when it visits. It sounds perverse but to fully embrace it helps.