When to the Sessions of sweet silent thought,
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste:
Then can I drown an eye (unused to flow)
For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night,
And weep afresh love’s long since cancelled woe,
And moan th’expense of many a vanished sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o’er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee (dear friend)
All losses are restored, and sorrows end.
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought…
I summon up remembrance of things past…
I’m in my head again. Paralyzed by memories of failure and injustice. Trapped in arguing a long-lost battle which actually never happened. Woulda, coulda, shoulda. Regret. How did I come to be here? Where did I go wrong?
Then can I drown an eye unused to flow…
For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night…
Peggy. This thought always jars me, rattles my brain around in my skull. Peggy, whose light was so warm, so bright, so strong. A light I miss desperately. Because she saw me, even when I couldn’t. She’s moved on, but not before leaving me with her truth and wisdom. They challenge me to move on, too. If only I can let go…
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone…
This one is hardest. A pathological need to be right, to get it right, chains me to eternal rehash what never was and never will be. A pacing diatribe of unused rhetoric to win what? To convince who? To change nothing. To pay for that pain over and over, like never ending emotional mortgage payments made long after the house is sold.
The two hardest words in my vocabulary.
A very close third place.
Seemingly words from a language I don’t understand or speak, they are so foreign.
Then… you. And I am not alone. And so much that seemed so important suddenly isn’t. My mind calms, my spirit soothes. I am present in my present again. And I am healed.