My heart, a burned out forest.
This image has come to me numerous times since Abi died.
Maybe because I live in the Pacific Northwest and Abi died during fire season. (It used to be called “summer”.)
Words come: destruction, smoldering, death…blackened, burned, choking. Empty, vacant, lifeless…silent.
I feel, quite literally, burned out; like I must look and smell of death.
In this heart there is no more life. There are no sounds of life, like before.
There is only one breath, and then another. More of a gasp, the air is so cloyed with ash.
There’s been a two and a half year fire and it has destroyed me.
To see the condition of my heart brings such sorrow. It feels like I cannot possibly survive. I’ve seen the destruction that the fires bring, and now, that destruction is within me, at my very core.
Somewhere near, there is a living forest. The air is crisp and clear, filled with the chatter of squirrels and birds’ song. My sons’ lives inhabit this place. Yet it feels a million miles away.
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