Through the storm, through the night…

“ Those who have died have never, never left
The dead are not under the earth
They are in the rustling trees
They are in the groaning woods
They are in the crying grass
They are in the moaning rocks
The dead are not under the earth” Sweet Honey in the Rock

How do we learn to carry our grief? How does grief as a vital ongoing conversation accompany us throughout life? What spaces does grief open up?

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