We were by the lake. The sky was grey and the water pale blue, expanding out farther than imaginable. The sand was cold and damp, no different than the air, and small droplets of rain occasionally fell on our skin. I had no memories full of more sadness than this moment of time, standing with my mentor on the shore. Though the anguish was deep and painful, it was tangible and freeing. She said to me,
life is sad but beautiful.
not beautiful but sad, not sad and beautiful. sad but beautiful.
I wept for the peace her words brought me, for the freedom it gifted. I had hope again.
YOU ARE READING
Quiver
Poetrya place where I've written my feelings when I felt them. it has become a story of depression and recovery, love and loss, hope and fear, and everything in-between. mostly poetry, sometimes stories. :)
