Early morning hours spent pondering
Attempting to walk a mile in so many others' shoes
I know the fit isn't exact, but the experience is unique
I wonder how to be productive with these heavy loads
I wonder how to make sad...beautiful
I ask how
And the answer is a feeling that swells from deep within
And the only name for it is crude and oversimplified
'Gratitude'
Not the kind thrown in at the end of a sentence as you turn to leave, with no eye contact
But the gratitude of long held embraces that include white knuckles, because if you let go you might fall
The kind where attempting to speak it out loud leaves your soul searching for words that were never invented
The kind of gratitude that saves from despair
Strange gratitude, that somehow includes tears and grief all lumped together with peace and assurance
And all this turmoil and anguish and joy and contentment can come together because of Drops of Blood shed in a garden 2000 years ago
And I ponder this
And. I. Am. So. Grateful.