The Herbalist

There was only silence.

The one that is not only deafening. You could feel it eating you away and everything seems to slow down. Before you know it you are already rummaging through a box of words, trying to connect words to sentences that would be able to alleviate the situation. But every time you try it just doesn’t work. Nothing seems to be a good way to address the situation and you are at loss for words. You are just there, staring at the trees that moved past the prison wagon as you allow the silence to eat you up, flesh to the bone.

I guess I know that whatever it is that I say it would only be pointless. There is no point in trying to console a soul that is grieving, sometimes you have to let them grieve. The more you struggle to get out of it, the more it pulls you deeper. Sometimes the way out of grief is grief itself. It is something that I wished I have learned when my mother died. You could not skip grieving and mourning. You have to go through it a