Sadness sets in counting the steps, not looking up, not looking forward.
Making your way there watching your feet move, that is sadness.
Sorrow is seeing the names and the dates, almost forgotten,
and what their faces looked like, that is sorrow.
The sound of their voices becoming a vague memory of what they sounded like,
so faint now it’s hard to imagine that they ever had voices, this is sorrow.
You are old now, and you’re counting your steps toward them.
Sadness is thinking about your dates, hearing your own voice growing fainter.
Sorrow is knowing your dates and never hearing your voice again.
You wish there were no room for sadness or for sorrow.
But they will show up, and they will find room.