When my best friend’s husband found out I would be volunteering at an AIDS hospice, he asked if I was a religious person. He said something like “usually people who work in that capacity have strong religious faith to see them through the dark times.”
I’m beginning to understand where he was coming from.
At the end of the day, you need something more than friends, family to help carry the burden. Somewhere bigger to empty your soul so it’s not stained by the weight of your sadness, blackened by the unfairness of lives taken before they’ve been fully lived. You need to believe that there’s a reason; that it’s not all in vain. You need to believe in something, or else you begin to lose hope.
I’m still searching. But, at least now I’m searching.
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"talk less write more"
"Many ingenious lovely things are gone that seemed sheer miracle to the multitude, protected from the circle of the moon that pitches common things about." -Yeats
Self Portrait
"talk less write more"
About Me
- claudine
- Born in Haiti, raised in Los Angeles, now living in the south. Wife, mother, and writer. Attempting my first novel called The Black Converse Diary; about a girl…… Also committed to the ongoing, almost forgotten, struggle against AIDS through various organizations. Mainly, volunteering at an AIDS hospice. Trying to find my own voice among the clutter. A strong, true voice that means something.
BLOG ARCHIVE
LIST IT
- "At the end of my suffering there was a door" (27)
- All Things Me (16)
- Hospice (7)
- To The Sea (1)
- Today (1)
- Waiting (1)
- World AIDS Day (3)
The Wild Iris
At the end of my suffering
there was a door.
Hear me out: that which you call death
I remember.
Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting.
Then nothing. The weak sun
flickered over the dry surface.
It is terrible to survive
as consciousness
buried in the dark earth.
Then it was over: that which you fear, being
a soul and unable
to speak, ending abruptly, the stiff earth
bending a little. And what I took to be
birds darting in low shrubs.
You who do not remember
passage from the other world
I tell you I could speak again: whatever
returns from oblivion returns
to find a voice:
from the center of my life came
a great fountain, deep blue
shadows on azure seawater.
Louise Gluck
there was a door.
Hear me out: that which you call death
I remember.
Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting.
Then nothing. The weak sun
flickered over the dry surface.
It is terrible to survive
as consciousness
buried in the dark earth.
Then it was over: that which you fear, being
a soul and unable
to speak, ending abruptly, the stiff earth
bending a little. And what I took to be
birds darting in low shrubs.
You who do not remember
passage from the other world
I tell you I could speak again: whatever
returns from oblivion returns
to find a voice:
from the center of my life came
a great fountain, deep blue
shadows on azure seawater.
Louise Gluck
THINGS I'M CRUSHING ON
- St. Aloysius
- Patches
- Apartment Story
- Cheekbones
- Padre Pio
- Louise Gluck
- Bloc Party
- Naked eyes with coat after coat after coat of black mascara
- The Bell Jar
4 comments:
I hope your search leads you to the larger picture,all things do happen for a reason. The reasons will not always coincide with what we feel should happen. However, perhaps we can take these experiences and try and teach, learn and grow as better people.
Even the most religious of people would have a hard time dealing with the sadness you experience every day. Even though religion might help you try to justify why these people you encounter every day suffer so much, the fact of the matter is so many lives are lost for what seems like no reason. Its still a greatly depressing, upsetting thing...no matter how much "faith" you have. I'm happy you continue to wake up every morning and volunteer. That's what I call faith.
Anonymous,
Thanks for your comment. I hope that my search does lead me to the bigger picture and hopefully my experiences will help me grow into a better person who is able to learn more and pass on that knowledge to others.
Anonymous,
Thank you for reminding me of the true meaning of "faith"
You are right, every morning that I go to the hospice I show faith in what I believe is true. I will hold on to that next time I feel overwhelmed by loss.
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