Where are the words?

I've read posts this week that sing. Posts about pain and claiming our power and mindful hugs and standing hopeful in what seems sometimes like a hopeless place. It has been a difficult week for my family. Amidst the celebration of togetherness that marks the end of November, we have also found ourselves grieving the loss of a matriarch. I want to write something profound. I want a poem that captures a life full of the rich mixture of joy and sorrow, creativity and stillness, fear and faith. But I find myself without words.

I also had a conversation with a friend, about how the walls I build around my soul keep my writing in my head. She's right. I have set myself on a path that has me holding pain and suffering, joy and growth for others every single day, but it's easier to ignore my own heart than to hold it gently without judgment. And the walls I build block the words I need.

This morning, as we celebrate a life well lived and already dearly missed, there will be both tears and laughter. My mind will be engaged with making sure my young daughters have what they need during this introduction into the end-life rites we perform. But I want also to be mindful of my own soul and I want to take down the walls and feel the pain without wishing it away and remember the joys and be able to laugh. Maybe then, somewhere inside of me, I will be able to find the words I'm looking for.