MY PRECIOUS SORROW

My heartbreak will not be healed by a miracle from God, a so-called answer from a misguided prayer for relief.

I don’t pray for relief.

I hope to have the wisdom,

and the courage, and to 

simply remember, 

to meet my pain,

and all that arises within me,

with love.

I won’t ever do enough “work on myself” to heal the wound or make the heartbreak finally go away. I’m not waiting for that kind of proof to show me that I’m finally worthy of living.

I’m living now,

and I embrace all that is,

with my broken heart,

my whole heart,

pulsing with infinity.

My precious sorrow cannot be healed.

Not even by my lover’s arms around me, nor the sweetness of his kisses. I may melt in his embrace, and receive his adoration and love with absolute surrender, yet

my sorrow is not an illness to mend,

it doesn’t need to be fixed,

it’s not a mistake or a problem.

and it certainly isn’t something to violently carve out of life.

It is life.

I bow to my pain, it is also ...my glory.