April | Being With Loss

The following resources were gratefully shared at the OneLight Gathering on Friday 14th April 2017 at London's monthly Interfaith Ceremony, generously hosted at Notting Hill's Essex Unitarian Church.



Brave Are We
by Alison Trower

Delicate wings can carry me far.
I am strong in my fragility, powerful
in sensitivity.
Look how the air sustains bodies
yet my hand goes through it as if through nothing.
Gossamer tenderness can heal the
ravages of this world; it can warm
like the sun
and soften edges with a whisper.
I do not underestimate gentleness,
nor precariousness.
Life itself is out on a limb.
I am out on a limb.
My nerves are exposed,
my veins visible, my pulse is a
quick and quiet tapping,
yet I dare to take part.
In all my vulnerability I dare to fly.
I have scars.
My wings have ragged ends.
Brave are we who are born at all.
It takes courage, to be sentient,
to not know the future,
to have blind-spots, thin skin,
to ache, to bleed, to lose.
Like a bug I could be crushed and spilled,
so I carry my dainty body with care,
knowing my cargo is precious.
My cargo is my sentience.
In being breathed life I was
It is human to live amongst the things that hurt.
I am flesh,
I take part.  


By Rumi

In my hallucination I saw my beloved’s
flower garden. In my vertigo,
in my dizziness, in my drunken haze,
whirling and dancing like a spinning wheel.
I saw my self as the
source of existence,
I was there in the beginning
and I was the spirit of love.
Now I am sober, there is only
the hangover and the memory and
only the sorrow.
I yearn for happiness,
I ask for help. I want mercy,
 and my love says:
Look at me and hear me,
because I am here just for that.
I am your moon and your moonlight too.
I am your flower garden and
your water too. Ive come all this way,
eager for you, without shoes or shawl.
I want you to laugh,
to kill all your worries, to love you,
to soothe you, to nourish you.
Oh sweet bitterness,
I will soothe you and heal you and bring
you roses;
I too have been covered in thorns.

Blessing for the Brokenhearted
by Jan Richardson

Let us agree
for now
that we will not say
the breaking
makes us stronger
or that it is better
to have this pain
than to have done
without this love.
Let us promise
we will not
tell ourselves
time will heal
the wound,
when every day
our waking
opens it anew.
Perhaps for now
it can be enough
to simply marvel
at the mystery
of how a heart
so broken
can go on beating,
as if it were made
for precisely this - 
as if it knows
the only cure for love
is more of it,
as if it sees
the heart’s sole remedy
for breaking
is to love still,
as if it trusts
that its own
persistent pulse
is the rhythm
of a blessing
we cannot
begin to fathom
but will save us


12th century poem
‘Tis a fearful thing
To love
What death can touch.
To love, to hope, to dream,
And oh, to lose.
A thing for fools, this,
But a holy thing
To love
What death can touch.  


There is No Hiding Place from Love
by Natacha Ledwidge

Om Nah Mo,
Om Nah Mo
Om Nah Mo

[meaning: I honour the Divine Love within me]


Dance of Peace:

Performer: I Fagiolini and the Sdasa Chorale Composer: Mokale Koapeng (b. 1963) and Roderick Williams (b. 1965) Album: Simunye (1998)