Concussed Goldfinch

17 Aug Concussed Goldfinch

I have a jolt of recognition as grief comes to visit. “Oh, hello again, I know you.” It feels like a small bird trapped in my chest. Anxiety sets in, with a fluttering of wings, with fear of what is to come. Speaking of it gives my heart an unexpected squeeze, which elicits tears. It feels as though the little bird is being crushed inside my chest when this happens. Thinking about the cause of my sorrow hurts, as though the little bird has smacked against the cage of my chest. If I observe closely, I notice this emotional pain can cause physical sensations along my arms to the tips of my fingers, and fill my stomach.

Then distracted, or numb, there may be a brief respite of quietude as I forget. Regaining consciousness again, the little bird takes to battering itself against confinement. I dip in and out of feelings, sometimes immersed, as though this captive air-borne creature is being held under water. Sometimes I am with a tender quality of beauty for all that is in the world, slowing down to feel gratitude alongside sadness.

I know over the coming days that this little bird will be squeezed, and bruised as grief mauls it like a predator inside my rib cage. I know too that every grief will mark me in some way, and ripen my understanding.