Is there comfort in company?
These are lines from Mary Oliver’s poem The Journey:
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
So I gather Mary Oliver knows something about struggling at fundamental levels.
As I have repeated the words over and over, I have asked myself this - does my basic need for company and mutual sharing stretch into the area of suffering? If I am in pain, am I comforted by yours?
Hard questions to answer.
