Winter and grief

Visions of the Rewilding Renaissance Grief & Praise
#1

Good reminders in this post written by Krista Arias: http://www.kristaarias.com/teach-your-daughters-wailing-the-power-of-mourning-women/

From her post:

"It is Winter. The waters are frozen. The trees are bare. The heart is still as the season of death descends and the sound of grief echoes in the quiet sleeping garden of the soul.

Winter is characterized by water, the healing water of tears. We invite the ancestors in the Fall and in the Winter we allow our grief to swell and emerge.

Not just any tears, but the sacred tears of measured grief offered to the ancestors once and for all. This is the essential lesson of the Winter season."

#2

My November Guest

My Sorrow, when she’s here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walked the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She’s glad the birds are gone away,
She’s glad her simple worsted gray
Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.

Robert Frost

#3

Beautiful poem. I’d never read that one before. Thanks, Lummox.

#4

Thank you for bringing it to my mind.

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