#sorrow and gratitude

[acourtofquestions]

Aelin's gaze shifted then. From her hands, her horrifically pristine skin, to the wolf across the clearing.

She blinked twice. And then slowly rose.

Unaware or uncaring of her nakedness, she took an unsteady step. Rowan was instantly there--or as close as the flames would allow.

He could push through, shielding himself in ice or simply by cutting off the air that fed her flames. But to cross that line, to shove into her flames. But to cross that line, to shove into her flames when so much, too much, had been stolen from her... He didn't let himself think about the distant, wary recognition on her face when she'd seen him--seen all of them. As if she wasn't entirely certain to trust them. Trust this.

Aelin managed another step, teetering.

He glimpsed her neck as she passed. Even the twin bite marks, his mark of claiming, had vanished.

Encased in flame, Aelin walked to Fenrys. The white wolf did not stir.

Sorrow softened her face, even with that quiet distance. Sorrow, and gratitude.

Gavriel and Elide remained on Fenrys's other side as she approached. Backed away a step.

Not from fear, but to give her space in this moment of farewell.

They had to go. Lingering here, despite the miles between them and the camp, was folly. They could carry Fenrys until it was over, but... Rowan couldn't bring himself to say it. To tell Aelin that it might not be wise to draw out this good-bye the way she needed. They had minutes, at best, to spare before they had to be on the move.

But if scouts or sentries found them, he'd make sure they didn't get close enough to disturb her. Gavriel and Lorcan seemed to be having the same thought, their eyes meeting from across the clearing. Rowan jerked his chin toward the western tree line in silent order. They stalked for it.

Aelin knelt beside Fenrys, and her flame enveloped them both. The fire gave way to a reddish-gold aura, a shield that he knew would melt the flesh of anyone who tried to cross. It flowed and rippled around them, a bubble of coppery air, and through it, Rowan watched as she ran a hand down the wolf's battered side.

Gavriel had healed most of the wounds, but the blood remained. Aelin made long, gentle strokes over his fur, her head angled as she spoke too softly for Rowan to hear. Slowly, painfully, Fenrys cracked open an eye.

Agony filled it--agony and yet something like relief, and joy, at the sight of her bare face. And exhaustion. Such exhaustion that Rowan knew death would be a welcome embrace, a kiss from Silba herself, goddess of gentle ends.

Aelin spoke again, the sound either contained or swallowed by her shield. No tears. Only that sorrow--and clarity.

A queen's face, he realized as Lorcan and Gavriel took up spots along the glen's border. It was a queen's face that looked upon Fenrys. A queen who took his massive paw in her hands, pushing back folds of fur and skin to unsheathe a curved claw. She slid it over her bare forearm, splitting skin. Leaving blood in its wake. Rowan's breath caught. Gavriel and Lorcan whirled toward them. Aelin spoke again, and Fenrys blinked once in answer. She deemed that answer enough. "Holy gods," Lorcan breathed as Aelin extended her bleeding forearm to Fenrys's mouth. "Holy rutting gods." For Fenrys's loyalty, for his sacrifice, there was no greater reward she could offer. To keep him from death, there was no other way to save him. Only this. Only the blood oath. And as Fenrys managed to lap the blood from her wound, as he swore a silent vow to queen, blinking a few more times, Rowan's chest became unbearably tight. Severing the blood oath to one queen had snapped his life force, his soul. Swearing the blood oath to another might very well repair that cleaving, the ancient magic binding Fenrys's fading life to Aelin's. Three mouthfuls. That's all Fenrys took before he laid his head back on the moss and closed his eyes. Aelin curled on her side next to him, flames encompassing them both. Rowan couldn't move. None of them moved. Aelin mouthed a short, curt word. Fenrys did not respond. She spoke again, that queen's face unfaltering.

Live.

She'd use the blood oath to force him to remain on this side of life. Still Fenrys didn't stir. Across the bubble of flame and heat, Elide put a hand over her mouth, eyes shining bright. She'd read the word on Aelin's lips, too. Aelin spoke a third time, teeth flashing as she gave Fenrys her first order. Live. Rowan didn't breathe as they waited. Long minutes passed. Then Fenrys's eyes cracked open.

Aelin held the wolf's gaze, nothing in her face save that grave, unyielding command.

Slowly, Fenrys stirred. His paws shifted beneath him, legs straining. And he rose.

"I don't believe it," Lorcan whispered. "I don't..."

But there was Fenrys, standing before their But there was Fenrys, standing before their now-kneeling queen. And there was Fenrys, inclining his head, shoulders dipping with him, one paw sweeping before the other. Bowing. A ghost of a smile graced her mouth, gone before it ever took form.

Aelin remained kneeling, though. Even as Fenrys surveyed them, surprise and relief lighting his dark eyes. His gaze met Rowan's, and Rowan smiled, bowing his head.

"Welcome to the court, pup," he said, his voice thick.

Raw emotion rippled across that lupine face, and then Fenrys turned back to Aelin.

She was staring at nothing. Fenrys nudged her shoulder with his furry head.

She ran an idle hand through the wolf's white coat. Rowan's heart clenched.

Maeve had cleaved into Rowan's own mind to Maeve had cleaved into Rowan's own mind to trick his very instincts. What had she done to her? What had she done these months?

"We need to go," Gavriel said, his own voice thick as he took in Fenrys, standing proud and watchful beside Aelin.

[soulinkpoetry]

Rumi said:

“Grief can be the garden of compassion. If you keep your heart open through everything, your pain can become your greatest ally in your life's search for love and wisdom.”

.

[woundgallery]

[dk-thrive]

I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow. but through it all, I still know, quite certainly, that just to be alive is a grand thing.

— Agathie Christie, An Autobiography (Dodd, Mead & Company, November 1977) (via Make Believe Boutique)

[hamdosana]

"You cannot prevent the birds of sorrow from flying over your head, but you can prevent them from building nests in your hair."

(Chinese proverb)

[compassionmattersmost]

Praising God in Every Season: A Poem of Faith Through Joy and Sorrow

In joy and sorrow, dark or bright,I lift my heart, both day and night,To praise the One who gives and takes,In every breath, His love awakes. When skies are clear or storms arise,When laughter fills or tearful eyes,My soul remembers, come what may,His gentle hand will lead the way. For in the depths or soaring high,In every season, low or nigh,His steadfast presence, ever near,Transforms my…

[samerpal]

🚨Trapped Family in Gaza Appeals for Help to Survive🚨 🕊️🇵🇸 🍉🌹

Hi 👋 my friends My name is Samer Abu Ras, and I am reaching out to you with a heavy heart and shattered hopes after the war in Gaza destroyed my life and my family’s. Our days were once filled with peace and security, but now we are homeless, without shelter or income, facing a bleak future. My wife Shorouq and our three children are suffering from psychological and health traumas due to this catastrophe. We lost our home and our jobs, and now we seek warmth in cold streets.

My original story link

🇵🇸🍉🌹🇵🇸🍉🌹🇵🇸🌺🍉🌺🍉🇵🇸🌹🌺🇵🇸🍉🌺

My children 🧒 👧 , who once lived in safety, are now gripped by fear and displacement. As a father, I feel deep sorrow and helplessness for not being able to protect them. Today, I am making a humanitarian plea, asking for assistance to rebuild our lives and find a safe and stable environment. Every donation, no matter how small, will make a significant difference in our lives.

Let us make hope triumph over despair and restore smiles and dignity to my family.

Thank you to everyone who listens to my plea and offers a helping hand and donation to change our future for the better.

With heartfelt gratitude and appreciation

Note our campaign vetted by

@sar-soor @el-shab-hussein @nabulsi @ibtisams

Verification source: number 196 on users el-shab-hussein and nabulsi's master list

Attached is my Instagram account, my friends, for more information and details.

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@tortiefrancis 🌹 @tsaricides @determinate-negation 🌹 @belleandsaintsebastian 🌹@4ft10tvlandfangirl 🌹 @tamarrud @queerstudiesnatural 🌹 @skatezophrenic 🌹 @awetistic-things @pcktknife 🌹

[olivebones]

Gratitude.

I rest now in awe, once more, as the Universe leaves me overwhelmed with gratitude at all that is, and all that once was; a specific kind of gratitude established only while consumed with raw emotion; a specific kind of gratitude that one doesn’t hold for all that will be, until it has arrived.

This gratitude is tender; it is the first to greet you, navigate sorrow alongside you, and meet you on the other side of grief.

This gratitude is inconsistent, at times remaining absent, even unfamiliar, as though it was never present in all that was, or all that is. This gratitude wakes you gently one morning after the storm has passed, once anger and pain have begun to subside. This gratitude is not promised, it is found in the deepest parts of you that wish to let go, to forgive, to heal, and to grow.

This gratitude is littered amongst the debris of earth-shattering change; it is surrounded by misery, darkness, grief, or fear. It is the light above and throughout suffering that rarely finds its way to the sufferer. It must be embraced and acknowledged before it is ours; it must be wanted to be found. This gratitude only exists when your heart desires peace and acceptance, and most importantly, change within, and change without.

What did you learn; what will come of this; why you, why now; what part did you play while riddled with fear or anger; what part will you play after this loss or change?

What changes ahead will now benefit you; who do you want to become; how will you show up different; how will a devastating loss strengthen you or create ease in the future?

I look around now, faced with unforeseen anger, frustration, and loss that has, ultimately, set me free. But not without a fight. Some, infuriating, and have brought about confusion beyond comprehension. Once I held myself and Truth as priority, gratitude found its way and I have never felt lighter or more in love with my life and, most importantly, Self. What started as anger and frustration, once confused as a loss, has left me more grateful than I can ever remember feeling, the main and most poignant reason being how fortunate I am to be on this side of the “loss”. The level of this gratitude I worked so hard for has rippled throughout every area of my life and gifted me the space to love myself, at last. I became free.

With a newfound love in Self, my heart opened up so wide I was able to fully embrace that I am deserving of a love that is kind, passionate, and gentle, and only then, was I ready to learn what real love is.

A loss indeed; a loss of a consistent reminder that I was once never good enough, a reminder of the false belief that someone else’s needs are always more important than my own. A loss of inconsistency and fear, emotional unrest and underlying ill intent - lies, blame, guilt or shame, just… gone. This loss has been one of my greatest teachers, and for that, I am grateful. What a stunning example of gratitude to wake up to each day. Ahh, so.

The second loss was of my companion, my fierce and loyal protector, my daemon, my shadow and my friend. My beautiful boy, DeSoto, taken in an instant and without pain. The void his absence has left in my heart is unbearable at times; the sorrow has not lifted, as I am left with reminders of him every day, habits, ones that I adored and others I took for granted for the eight years he dedicated his life to loving me. It has been one month now, and the daily reminder that still stains the pavement once made me ill, but now leaves me with a different ache, as it is all I have left of my loyal friend.

Among this grief, gratitude is with me. It greets me when I see memories of our adventures; when I know that I can go anywhere in the world without worrying about someone loving him properly in my absence, harm finding its way to him, or anxiousness consuming him, while I am away. I am grateful that I now know what it is to be loved unconditionally on a level that I only dreamt of. I am grateful to know such a fierce loyalty exists, from a being who saw all parts of me, who feared me at times, who journeyed alongside every version of who I once was, and into who I have become. A lesson in unwavering love, innocence, loyalty, and a reminder to always see the world with new eyes, and to find joy in all things. And also.. there is a time and a place to be fierce, and a time and a place to relax your mind and accept the flow of love that means you no harm. Thank you, DeSoto. Thank you for showing me how to love and to grieve unabashedly and without shame. Not a day goes by…

You are forever in my heart, Sweet Boy, for now and for always.

And thank you, grief, for always inspiring me to bleed through my favorite form of expression, each and every time we meet. Thank you, anger and emotion, for showing me the parts of Self that want or need change. Thank you for exposing those who deserve a place in my life, and those who no longer serve me and are only ever serving themselves; for shedding such a brilliant light onto those who see me for who I really am and bathe in every drop of my bleeding heart, who nurture my soul and believe in me each day. Learning to embrace gratitude in the depths of grief and beyond the flames of anger and confusion has given me the capacity to allow only authentic love to permeate every corner of my life and of my heart, and in places it did not reside before. Gratitude has shown me I am worthy and I am enough, that I always have been and always will be.

When the world feels as though it is closing in on me, I will always stay aware of the silver lining, even when it is out of view. My heart is now safe and my heart is full. For that and so much more, I will forever be grateful.

[feb226]

The Tapestry of Life: Balancing Joy and Sorrow

Life is a masterpiece painted with strokes of both sunshine and rain. We often chase an elusive utopia, a world free from pain. But it’s in the contrast between light and shadow that our humanity truly shines. Suffering is an undeniable part of our journey. It shapes our character, builds resilience, and can deepen our capacity for empathy. Yet, when sorrow’s tide engulfs us, we risk overlooking…

[stastrodome]

I try to say thank you for the mountains, sea and sky Saint Lucy can't save every pair of eyes

[quotesengage]

Sorrow Is Not My Name

BY ROSS GAY

—after Gwendolyn Brooks

No matter the pull toward brink.

No matter the florid, deep sleep awaits.

There is a time for everything. Look,

just this morning a vulture

nodded his red, grizzled head at me,

and I looked at him, admiring

the sickle of his beak.

Then the wind kicked up, and,

after arranging that good suit of feathers

he up and took off.

Just like that. And to boot,

there are, on this planet alone, something like

two

million naturally occurring sweet things,

some with names so generous as to kick

the steel from my knees: agave, persimmon,

stick ball, the purple okra I bought for two bucks

at the market. Think of that. The long night,

the skeleton in the mirror, the man behind me

on the bus taking notes, yeah, yeah.

But look; my niece is running through a field

calling my name. My neighbor sings like an angel

and at the end of my block is a basketball court.

I remember. My color's green. I'm spring.

—for Walter Aikens

[raffaellopalandri]

Every Day a Holiday: Finding Joy in the Present Moment

Daily writing promptWhat is your favorite holiday? Why is it your favorite?View all responses For many, holidays are a time of escape, a chance to break free from the routines of daily life and indulge in celebration, often with family and loved ones. But what if I told you that every day could be a holiday? This might sound like a radical proposition, but it’s a philosophy I’ve embraced long…

[castrotophic]

not sure if anyone is interested in this but here is a list of the most joyfully vital poems I know :)

You're the Top by Ellen Bass

Grand Fugue by Peter E. Murphy

Our Beautiful Life When It's Filled with Shrieks by Christopher Citro

Everything Is Waiting For You by David Whyte

Lawrence Ferlinghetti Is Alive! by Emily Sernaker

Instructions for Assembling the Miracle by Peter Cooley

Catalogue of Unabashed Gratitude by Ross Gay

Barton Springs by Tony Hoagland

Footnote to Howl by Allen Ginsberg

Song of the Open Road by Walt Whitman

Tomorrow, No, Tomorrower by Bradley Trumpfheller

At Last the New Arriving by Gabrielle Calvocoressi

To a Self-Proclaimed Manic Depressive Ex-Stripper Poet, After a Reading by Jeannine Hall Gailey

In the Presence of Absence by Richard Widerkehr

Chillary Clinton Said 'We Have to Bring Them to Heal' by Cortney Lamar Charleston

Midsummer by Charles Simic

Today by Frank O'Hara

Naturally by Stephen Dunn

Life is Slightly Different Than You Think It Is by Arthur Vogelsang

Ode to My Husband, Who Brings the Music by Zeina Hashem Beck

The Imaginal Stage by D.A. Powell

Lucky Life by Gerald Stern

Beginner's Lesson by Malcolm Alexander

Presidential Poetry Briefing by Albert Haley

A Poem for Uncertainties by Mark Terrill

On Coming Home by Lisa Summe

G-9 by Tim Dlugos

Five Haiku by Billy Collins

The Fates by David Kirby

Upon Receiving My Inheritance by William Fargason

Variation on a Theme by W. S. Merwin

Easy as Falling Down Stairs by Dean Young

Psalm 150 by Jericho Brown

Pantoum for Sabbouha by Zeina Hashem Beck

ASMR by Corey Van Landingham

A Welcome by Joanna Klink

From Blossoms by Li-Young Lee

At Church, I Tell My Mom She’s Singing Off-Key and She Says, by Michael Frazier

Hammond B3 Organ Cistern by Gabrielle Calvocoressi

Sorrow Is Not My Name by Ross Gay

You Can't Have It All by Barbara Ras

We Were Emergencies by Buddy Wakefield

To the Woman Crying Uncontrollably In the Next Stall by Kim Addonizio

Monet Refuses the Operation by Lisel Mueller

[mohammedshehabtt]

Please Share Or Replog Or Donate to save my life

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I hope everyone can donate and share my story:

‏A call for help for mona and my family in Gaza!!! All thanks and gratitude for your humanitarian stances with us, and we

‏assistance in this difficult time. Onw year of displacement and famine have exacerbated our

suffering and difficulties beyond belief. We used all the words of sadness and sorrow to describe the situation we had reached, but such words were not enough. The scale of the tragedy and suffering is much greater than what you may have seen or seen on several social media

Dear Friends You can support my family by either donating or sharing my campaign link with others so that the goal is reached sooner Please help us. We are very tired and no one is looking at us. Please help us. If you cannot .donate, publish the account

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[save-mohamed-family]

As the Palestinian people, we live in a reality filled with injustice and oppression. Every form of support that reaches us, in all its kinds, means so much to us. We carry deep gratitude in our hearts for everyone who stands with us in these harsh conditions. These acts of solidarity are a glimmer of hope in a world that shuts its doors to our suffering, and we thank everyone who extends a helping hand during these painful moments, where our sorrows and wounds continue to accumulate.

The greatest gift you can offer my children and my family is your donation, even if it’s just five dollars. Winter is fast approaching, and I live with my children in a tent that doesn't protect us from the harsh cold. We fear the coming storms and the unforgiving chill. All I wish for is to be able to buy a new, sturdy tent to shield my children from the cold. Please, help me protect my family from this cruel fate.

[xiaowhore]

intoxicating.

premise. your boyfriend dumps you and says he doesn't love you anymore. of course, being the petty bitch that you are, you have to prove that you don't need him in your life either. and of course, intense emotions often lead to rash decisions, so you go to a bar in hopes of finding a new man.

somehow, even when all you've managed to do is scowl at anyone who approaches you and mope at the bar counter, you still manage to get one.

Wriothesley has dealt with his fair share of unruly drunks before, but they were something more along the lines of aggressive and sloppy, not depressed and sappy.

He finds that he'd rather manhandle angry alcoholics than a person who makes a slobbering mess all over his shirt, clinging to his arm and sobbing to his sleeve. Your body starts to sway even when he supports your weight, your footsteps unstable as your attempt to walk in a straight line fails entirely.

Okay, so maybe you are sloppy after all.

Wriothesley sighs and tightens his grip on your shoulders. There's no point in losing his patience with a drunk person. He didn't even mean to pick you up, it's just that as a police officer, his sense of responsibility makes him want to fix a troublesome situation whenever he sees one. Even when he isn't on duty, he often leads disruptive drunks out of bars and restaurants, forces them out when he has to, and is always on the receiving end of owners' gratitude.

However, he has no experience dealing with drunks that just got dumped by their boyfriend and chugged away the sorrow with alcohol. You know, like the one dragging their feet as he drags their inebriated body away.

At first, he thought you were hitting on him when he felt your head lean on his shoulder in the bar. It's a common strategy, one that he's dealt with enough times to know when someone is just pretending to be drunk and trying to get his attention. He was still thinking of what to say when tears actually rolled down your cheeks and you started retelling your life story that he never asked to hear about.

Wriothesley isn't actually trying to listen, but he still gets the gist of it. It would be hard not to when you're still prattling on about it beside his ear as we speak.

“He said...” You hiccup, warm liquid seeping into his shirt as you sob into his arm. He hopes that's from your tears and not your snot. “He said he doesn't feel anything for me anymore...”

So you glammed up for tonight and tried to have fun at a bar so you could prove to yourself you didn't need him in the same way he didn't need you. He can already recite the story perfectly from the amount of times you told him. Your plan is irrational at best, and he doesn't see himself doing the same if he were ever to be in the same situation, but he can't berate you for it. Not when you looked so miserable and hopeless to the extent he didn't think it would be safe to leave you alone back at the bar.

“You can't force yourself to be happy,” Wriothesley grumbles, finally giving up on carrying you by the shoulder and instead hoists you up on his back to give you a piggyback ride. Your shoes slip off your feet, so he sighs as he crouches down to pick them up. “At times like this, you should find other ways to feel better.”

Your body jolts against him as you hiccup once again. “Like what?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs, and he can feel you gradually getting used to being carried. It takes only a bit more for you to melt against his body, your chin snugly tucked in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. “Watch movies at home in your pajamas, I guess. Treat yourself to good food. Go on a trip. You look like the type to enjoy that. Much safer than getting involved with guys when you're still emotionally unavailable.”

You sniffle. “Romance movies only remind me of him. Eating at restaurants will make me remember the dates we've gone to. And going on trips will make me wish he's there with me.”

Why do they have an argument for each point I make? And I never said anything about the movie having to be romance. “Well, you still have to go through that,” he gives up on making you think otherwise. “But one day, you'll feel a little better about it. Maybe you'll want to start dating again when you watch that romance movie, or you'll want someone else to eat with on that restaurant you once went to. And when you're on a trip, maybe you'll even think you want somebody special to go with you.”

You go quiet. For a moment, he thinks you've fallen asleep. But then your head slowly rises from his shoulder, dazed eyes peeking at him unsurely. “You really think so?”

“It won't be easy,” Wriothesley says, because nothing ever is. “But you want to say you don't love him anymore, right?” He glances at you, at the dry tear streaks on your cheeks, at what glitter remains around your eyes from all the times you've rubbed away your tears.

For the first time that night, he sees you smile. “Yeah... I want to say it without feeling hurt anymore.”

He turns away, and he feels himself smiling without meaning to. “That's good.”

“...So do you like watching romance movies? Or eating [hometown] cuisine?”

“...No?”

“Then I'll settle for a movie you like. And I can make good food from anywhere.”

“...Are you hitting on me? Using my advice?”

“Is it working?”

Wriothesley laughs, looking at the person he's carrying on his back, who he is escorting to his apartment because you lost your keys and your roommate won't be back until tomorrow, whom he wrapped his leather jacket around because he felt you shivering against him, and who caught his eye the very moment he entered the bar.

“That's not a no.” He knows you're pouting even when he isn't looking anymore.

“Yeah,” he agrees with you, almost indulgently. “It isn't.”

When you wake up in an unfamiliar bedroom, dressed down to your undergarments and a t-shirt you definitely do not own, and with hardly any recollection of events from the past night, you think you've made a terrible, terrible mistake.

But then you spot the hangover medicine on the bedside table, your alcohol-spilled clothes drying in the laundry room, and possibly the most gorgeous man you've ever seen cooking breakfast in the kitchen, so whatever you did last night couldn't really be that bad.

“Oh, you're awake,” he says once he notices you standing in the middle of the room, completely awestruck. You don't even know what you should be staring at; his chiseled face, his strong arms, his tight tank top that faintly traces his muscled torso, the gray sweatpants that-

Okay. You are not going to look anywhere below his waist.

“Yeah,” is all you can manage, simply glad you didn't fuck up that one syllable. You feel like you're on the verge of either saying something really stupid or making really weird strangled noises. You prefer the former, if you can help it.

“Sit.” He pulls one chair from the dining table, gesturing for you to take it. You meekly take your seat, eyes shifting everywhere but his face. “You're rather quiet today,” he muses, taking one glance at your reddening face as he fixes the plates of pancakes in front and across you.

“...How was I yesterday, then?” You ask, though you don't actually want to hear the answer.

The man hums in thought, taking his sweet time while pouring coffee over two mugs. “Troublesome,” he decides to say. “You nearly puked over my rug, after all.”

You sputter, making all kinds of apologies and promises of compensation when all of a sudden, he laughs. “Nah, I'm kidding. But this means you don't remember anything at all, right?” He sits across from you, sliding the mug to your hand.

“No...” You take a sip, but you barely register how it tastes. “I remember ordering a lot of drinks, but that's pretty much it.”

“That's a shame.” He sighs, leaning back on his chair as he sips coffee. “I suppose that means our dinner plans are void, then.”

“Absolutely not!” The words come out of your lips before your brain-to-mouth filter processes it fully, your hand slamming down the mug on the table in protest. “Uh... that is... if you're available whenever...” You get a hold of yourself and feel your cheeks burning in shame.

He doesn't try to hide the amused smirk on his face. “Sure. I'll be looking forward to your hometown cooking, then.”

Just what on earth did you do last night...?

???