The Weight of Tears

I used to think the weight of tears unshed held my fears at bay; like those small heavy blankets people swaddle their dogs in during thunder storms to allay terror. 

I am pretty sure, in my past life, my transgression was to smite a goddess, or three. Did I cross Iaso (goddess of healing) in a former life; steal her man at a party... talk smack about her mama Epione (soother of pain)... or cause her brother Podalirius' ship to sail off course during his return journey from the Trojan War??  I am pretty certain that there was some kind of epic mermaid--goddess mash-up that sent my kismet into a cataclysmic cosmic tailspin.

Or was it my hubris - did I taunt tragedy by thinking we had found safe haven and surrendered our dual citizenship status leaving behind what Sontag calls the "nightside of live"

Or did I, in my punk-rock thrift shopping days, unknowingly, don a necklace that cursed my descendants and share the fate of Harmonia ? 

Somehow, someway those beautiful and fierce god and goddesses of healing closed their immortal portals and did not gift through heavenly grace -- health to my children. Health has been a battle hard fought in sterile hallways, ruled by mortals, illuminated with cold manufactured light; and accessed through portals guarded by the gargoyles of the insurance industry.  

The "open sesame" to begin the journey is hidden behind actuary tables written in arcane and evolving dialects.  These places -- modern temples of medicine -- where super bugs grow,  where nature is invoked with projected images of trees and paintings of green fields are a reminder of what has been lost.

Like a mantra, I remind myself that wellness will be invoked through earthly beauty, magic, and love. And healing, regardless of health, will be found in the invisible bonds of golden light that connect our souls to each other and our hopes to the heavens. 

I lately find myself drawn to the story of Niobe; a tale that among other things illustrates the wrath of the gods, a mother's sorrow, and the power of tears to fall through stone.