There are no words, sometimes

There are no words sometimes for the sadness inside us all. I don't mean this in some depressing, absurdist way, I just mean, sometimes we have to be sad. Sometimes we have to be sad becomes something awfully sad happens to us. Sometimes because something terribly sad happens to someone else, and sometimes, I think it's just a reminder that we are foreigners here.

Because, while there is something beautiful about being a sojourner, a nomad, there's something sad about never having a home, or always being on your way home. There's something sad about life here. It's like hearing a whisper of, "No one belongs here more than you." But, it's been carried for centuries to you. And even though the backs of the bees the carry this message believe just as much as the one who sent it, it's still a little sad. Because here, isn't here, it's there.

So, all that to say, I believe in grief. I believe it's a companion in life to remind us that this is right, and that's ok. Weep and rage about the wrongness of it all.

But, I also believe in hope and truth. And that they're great friends to grief when she seems close to drowing herself, they remind her of who she is, and why all of this isn't right.

And, I guess, that's all right. That it may not be the most comfortable way to live, but at least when we're quiet we can hear whipsers being sent in messages in bottles that will fight to make it to the sea shore, because the bottles need to know that they aren't floating aimlessly, but swimming with a purpose towards someone who is marked by love to tell them something simple and so profound.

No one belongs here more than you.

And even if here is there, I'll sojourn towards there until it's here.