ROCKS, STREAMS, AND STORYTELLERS
Photo by Keith R. Good
End-of-life
for those with whom we are particularly close,
seems to bring out who we are at our core.
Some of us are rocks.
Unbreakable.
Pillars.
Feeling the need to hold up all around us.
Or,
perhaps,
we just can’t let our surface crack,
lest we fall to pieces.
Some of us are streams.
We go with the flow,
while staying our course.
Occasionally we pick up others in need,
and carry them along.
But sometimes a stream’s flow
is fashioned from tears
that even a dam can’t contain.
Then some of us are storytellers.
We talk.
We laugh.
We reminisce.
We play familiarity like a piano concerto –
every part by heart.
We connect to those who are listening,
and telling stories of their own.
But can it be that we need to get lost in a story,
because the reality at hand
is too painful to fully embrace?
Let the rocks be strong.
But if they crack,
help them pick up the pieces.
Let the streams flow.
And if the tears run,
let them –
even as God collects
and records each one.
Let the storytellers recount,
and their experiences, count.
And if the present moment breaks them,
hold their pain
as a book in your embrace,
and help them tenderly
turn another page.
© Marie Elena Good, 2018
