When Morning Comes


When mourning comes

The slow and painful rise of awareness

Bright and shocking to our confused eyes

When the tears fall for the Unlived Life

And the thoughts come of What Could Have Been

The Should Have Been’s

The If Only’s

Do we deny, then, or accept?

When mourning comes and the tidal waves of deep regret

Stick to your cheeks, smearing them with agony and loneliness

And your heart screams, why can’t it be different?

I should have known

And you look stupidly at your own ignorance

Mad at something that makes no sense to be mad at

Oh but so, so mad

And sad

The piercing bitterness rises

When mourning comes

And morning always comes

Do we deny, then, or accept?

Can we forgive ourselves for the Not Knowing

Can we start to see through new eyes

Polished, clearer from our suffering

And see — truly see — that there is no other way for any of us

To live this journey

Except exactly as it is

One thought on “When Morning Comes

  1. How very poignant in my first read. Oddly removed yet connected, observing a familiar scene.

    However, as I explored When Morning Comes, for a second time, it was painfully clear that it was no longer my eyes that were poring over it. My fragile emotions were now feeling your words, “When the tears fall for the Unlived Life”.

    Instantly that thickness, tightness in my throat gave way to those too familiar, agonizing tears. Curiously, in spite of the pain, I couldn’t stop reading your words through the tears, even as my throat kept closing. All these years, self-forgiveness has been such a confusing notion for me, as I think you know.

    Self-forgiveness, especially for an “Unlived Life”, is a nearly intolerable concept for me. Yes, you’re right, the Judger is present. Still quite real though, is the height of my apprehension. Even with your guidance, determination, and unwavering support, I may not be able to use the tools you give me to uncover those new eyes I would need, to truly see. I am, trying to imagine what it would feel like…

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