By Eila Algood
20,000 leagues under the skin
where the sun’s rays don’t touch,
that is where the sadness resides.
From losses stacked one atop another
like rocks piled upon a grave.
Tears over time soften the sorrow-filled heap,
laughter rounds sharp edges,
love offered solace and respite from the cavernous gash of my heart.
The percolated pain is valuable as it flows
like lava bubbling up through the earth’s crust;
Inflamed and aggravated without direction,
Having destroyed all in its wake while creating
a new earth; an unbridled path.
Born from the wound is the potential of a new norm.
Yet sorrow became a revered companion,
cradled in a blanket of self-acceptance.
As desolation rose through the rock pile and
emerged from the depths of darkness,
It stepped slowly, meditatively, into radiant light,
transfigured with humble grace.
Love the progress of illuminated awareness
and honor the metamorphosis of grief from
20,000 leagues under the skin.