Sitting With Darkness

January 26, 2025January 27, 2025 ~ wordancerblog ~ 6 Comments

Now, she’s gone, and I’m trying to find my way in the wake of this darkness. How do I walk on towards old age? How do I live fully with joy and optimism while holding pain and anxiety at bay?

Sharon Roy on Three Pillars of Teaching: Heart, Creativity, and ConnectionMay 6, 2026
Word Dancer, I always love reading about your nurturing interactions with students. Thank you for sharing your beautiful interaction and…
Trish on Three Pillars of Teaching: Heart, Creativity, and ConnectionMay 5, 2026
Oh that lucky Josephine. This is how we count life's riches, one true connection after another. She will not forget…
Awakening Wonders on Three Pillars of Teaching: Heart, Creativity, and ConnectionMay 3, 2026
A simply delightful and beautiful poem, I'm sure Josephine will treasure it the rest of her life!
Denise Krebs on Three Pillars of Teaching: Heart, Creativity, and ConnectionMay 3, 2026
Joanne, what a lovely description of your philosophy of education. So many strong qualities for that foundation. 48 years! Wow.…
margaretsmn on Three Pillars of Teaching: Heart, Creativity, and ConnectionMay 3, 2026
Josephine must bring you great joy. Connecting one on one in this way, you have changed her heart, even if…

6 responses to “Sitting With Darkness”

majfoil

January 26, 2025

jojo, thank you so much for sharing this. I am blessed in your sharing. Please know I am praying for you. ❤️

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Linda&Greg

January 28, 2025

This is a very powerful slice, and the way you are sharing your grief resonates with me. I appreciated your description of the not being able to parts as well as the making the soup and watching the snow softly cover the night. I appreciate your sharing the writing of your former student. Thank you for sharing today.

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margaretsmn

January 28, 2025

I hope you sent the poem to your former student. I know that darkness waits for me as my mother and my mother-in-law are both aged. My father died two years ago and it took a solid year for me to emerge and feel whole again. Give yourself time. I love all of you “I Can” statements.

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natashadomina

January 29, 2025

This is so lovely. I especially love these lines: “I can sit in this darkness. I can let it drape over me like a blanket. I can sink into it and not drown. I can look up and see the snowflakes mingle with silvery stars.” When my father died last summer, a friend told me that for the first two weeks after her father died she basically just stayed in bed and watched tv. I continue to find that helpful, as I’m still not getting as much done as I think I “should”–and also going through periods of not reading. Loss is so hard. But, as you wrote, “I am strong enough to sit in the darkness with this grief.” My heart goes out to you.

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Trish

January 29, 2025

Painful, stunningly beautiful—the paradox of this piece: “We can’t tell each other apart./Who is the darkness?/Who is the light?” Truth that brings tears this morning with hope in the promise of, “Waiting for our eyes to adjust.”

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Fran McCrackin

January 29, 2025

Trish and others pulled some of your most beautiful lines. But I also want to note the lovely progression of your piece, from facts and despair, through coping by keeping busy and productive even though your thoughts wont settle on anything, then to the solace of noticing nature, the snow and then the moon, and finally on to a poetic contemplation that adds depth and beauty to this journey. A journey many are feeling, for many reasons.

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