Lifting Dark

 I was talking to a friend about grief; the loss of a child which is unfortunately, a loss we both have. And I said, I'm out now. I'm back in the world again. And she knew just what I meant. For a long time, I felt I was wandering in the dark. A a gray, diffused dark where the way forward was unclear, no familiar landmarks, even familiar ones far away, diminished. 

I feel I have walked out. Unfortunately, though I'm still in a new landscape, I can see it, squinting and trying to cope with the light. And that, I realize now, is part of why I am sometimes, bitter. This is it then? This pain, this life? I'm not without hope but hope, like everything else, is different. Feels different. 

Dark makes moving hard but also conceals. Part of me wants to go back to dark but I know, as with any transition going back, even if physically possible, is just not the same experience. That experience is gone. Because I'm different. So, I think what I'm working with is finality. The finality of loss; a place I have visited from time to time. I'm more aware, more here now. Finality. I really hate this place.