The Sandy Hole
I am haunted by this poem today, and the image it conjures. Isn't it true how grief can separate us, make us unwilling to give or receive solace from each other? And isn't that in itself a tragedy?
THE SANDY HOLE
by Jane Kenyon (1947-1995)
The infant's coffin no bigger than a flightbag ....
The young father steps backward from the sandy hole,
eyes wide and dry, his hand over his mouth.
No one dares to come near him, even to touch his sleeve.
posted by Bobby @ 5:47 AM
1 comments
1 Comments:
That poem is so real for some people at some times. There may be a time and a place that we need to briefly retreat from others when certain kinds of grief occurs. But if the retreat is more than shorm term, then it is sad. Grief can separate or unite; it depends how we respond to it.
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