each of us must decide what we hold sacred,
and then hold it.

hold it; your love, your joy, curiosity—
your fear and your despair;

if you cannot hold the immensity of your grief,
you may ask another to help you hold it,
but you can never make them.

it is within each of us to witness everything we cherish,
to ask humbly if anyone else can see it too.

true loneliness is losing the ability to ask.

and perhaps it was loneliness which created the cosmos,
as if the depths of the darkness
had enough weight to pull up the sun.

i look around at the world
and i want to believe that such a weight
could pull all of the truth from my throat,
want to believe light would stream from me
like it does from my paintings;
if only i could speak clearly enough
to break the clouds forming above our heads.

and if it rained for 40 days and 40 nights
would we blame each other for the water in our lungs,
or would we create shelter together?

could i hold cypress wood together
as you hit the nail on its head?
would we build an ark
or would we drown side by side,
afraid to look one another in the eye?

it is up to each of us to find our strength,
it is the responsibility of each of us to create heaven.

it begins with bravery, it’s held constant with truth,
and it’s embodied in love.
not a cliche at all, but a monument
to everything it means to be human.

our temples are built on the foundations of grief,
but the fact that there are temples at all
is proof that there is still life after death.

so hold your grief, softly in your arms,
kiss her on the forehead
as she shows you the true meaning of holy.

you are the light that never goes out.

live your life as fully as you can,
not in spite of tragedy,
but definitely through it.

for every unfinished sentence,
every last breath while you get one more,
breathe deep
and if you must cry, cry.

perhaps it was the tears of angels,
close enough to witness the cruelty of man,
which drowned Noah’s world.

perhaps like the tears of the phoenix,
such a flood may wash over the fires of this hell
and heal the wounds we’re all left to carry.

and if it did,
would you dream with me?
would you take responsibility
for the life that happens after death?

can you feel the dawn coming?

because a new day will come,
where we decide what is sacred,
and we’ll hold it, each of us, together.