By Appointment

A particular devotion that shall never be known again. The service of holding and tending must be rewritten to exist without form. Daily offerings that were at times met with resistance, and always humility are now a memory.

My child. My teacher. My friend. She has returned to the Earth.

Facing the child within. The teacher within. The friend within. 

Suffering as I rail against the prayers being communicated that I can’t possibly yet recite. Anguish like a cloak and yet that omniscient teaching of staying by the side of love lives within. A wisdom that can’t be unlearned.

Crying until there is no sound and aching until collapse is a familiar that came even when my sweet one could still be in my arms. Without her in my cradle I can’t seem to get up from the altar of death. It was my death, but somehow I am still here. 

How shall I meet the longing to return to the God of my beautiful child?

I was asked to keep and shepherd a soul I had some part of creating. She arrived and made loving known. It was her that made loving a verb, a most particular devotion. An absolutely simple and particularly complex devotion.

I am lost without the constant light of my heart. But still I hold the map that we made. The design in which she is part of the brokenness, and also the carefulness. 

We curated a practice of the deepest kind.

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