What are you grieving? Who among us is not grieving someone, something, or many things and people? I am grieving close friends who have passed since this recent Winter Solstice scarce six weeks ago. Some passed of COVID-19, others of various maladies, and one family friend passed after playing two hours of tennis at age 90—way to go, Wilson! I am grieving the suffering caused by this pandemic, the death, the long term disabilities, the illness and suffering. I am grieving that we live in a dystopia where touch is forbidden and people die alone with their phones. I am grieving the financial losses many have suffered, the long lines for food banks snaking through parking lots. I am grieving the fear that many are feeling, the separation from loved ones, far and near, just across town and on the other side of the planet. And I am grieving the climate that has changed and broken down around me. , The environment I live in is not the same one I moved to 27 years ago, and on a macro scale, the planetary bank of biodiversity is on the verge of going bankrupt. I grieve the drought in the Southwest where I live, as the single-digit humidity sucks moisture from my face and from my fingers as I type, and from the soil and leaves and needles of the land outside my home. I grieve the memory of snow, of bright winters, of moonlight on snow by night, of sunlight in azure skies by day against the sharp blinding whiteness of snow tenderly blanketing and nourishing the land. Do all Goddesses weep with compassion? Is that the fate of the Divine Feminine, to cry for the imbalances before pulling Herself together to right them, to rebalance in both gentleness and fierceness? I hope you will be moved by my poem, Isis Weeping, which I wrote on Winter Solstice as I connected with the anguished grief of the Ancient Egyptian Goddess Isis as she searched for the fourteen pieces of her dismembered husband. How many pieces of our own souls is each of us searching for? How many pieces of Gaia's soul? What are you Resurrecting with your love? Isis, Weeping Like Isis, I grieve. I grieve for the world, which has vanished. I grieve for our lives, cut into pieces like Osiris’ mortal remains, Scattered. I feel her anguish, my own, as she searches wailing with tear-streaked face the length and breadth of Egypt for her murdered Beloved. I choke on desert sands, blowing. I cry in the heat of a changed world, tears drying on my ravaged cheeks. I am wide awake with love and longing, seeking, restless finally falling into exhausted sleep And dreams of the stars. I wait for the renewal of the day the life-giving Light of Ra that still does not shine upon the face of the Beloved. I grieve, today, for all the lives torn asunder, For all the loved ones separated, For all the strangers afraid of one another, For the wildly swinging scale of Ma’at, Her feather blowing away in a savage, unending gale of pestilence and greed. I grieve for Lion and Cat and life forms larger and smaller. I grieve for harmony, for gatherings, for dance, for music, for shared food. I grieve and search, endlessly it seems. The sun rises and sets, rises and sets, the moon goes through her pregnant phases. The stars wheel uncaringly around the drifting North Star— Are they indifferent to our plight? We are separated as surely as the Beloved’s parts, scattered, scattered Longing to be found, transformed, brought together in a scream of love Like the voice of the kite. Like Isis, I will grow wings, wings to help me search the Heavens and the Earth. I will take the form of Mut ugly-headed beautiful vulture The Cleanser And scream as I rush down the steps of the holy temple at dawn on the solstice. The sun stands still over the hot sands of Egypt over the life-giving waters of the Nile Over forests of north and south jungles, farmland, pyramid-mountains with capstones of snow. Over the still-frozen pole The sun waits the Earth waits the sky waits For the victory of Love. Like Isis, I preserve Love I nurture Love I raise the Osiris of my Hopes with Love. I become a thousand “we’s” nay, millions, nay, billions. We grieve like Isis whether we know it or not, Only our minds and hearts are free to wander at this moment. But we are free to wonder, no rules nor plagues keeping us from wonder. The grief, the loss is the beginning. That sick moment when we realize it’s true. Osiris is missing Earth is fading Life is draining away species by species Sand through the glass of time. What do we do? First, we grieve. It takes as long as it must. Then we Journey to worlds as yet undreamed to bring back the pieces of the world. We grow wings like a billion angels And the tender Wings of Love bring life back to the planet. The Wings of Love stir the breath of life, of rebirth of all that is sacred of all that loves, and is loved, and is Love. The Wings of Love change the weather, cause the waters to rise up become clouds Bring rare and life-giving rain shimmer into rainbows in the sun. When we can transform our grief our hot rage and outrage to cooling rains of Love Our world will be reborn New, different But vital and strong. Our love will miraculously give birth to re-generation. Sons and daughters of Life will be born and reach to rejoin the stars. Grief shall shatter, our tears become purified of salt, become fresh, life-giving rain Each drop a rainbow. We will embrace again We will dance to sistrum and harp We will twirl and stamp. We will again join our voices in laughter and song. Osiris will rise again and again In every form Through the power of Love pure, unmitigated bright This is how Earth transforms This is how Earth heals This is how humans are born from the loving womb of Earth to begin anew, wiser. This is the time of Isis’ labor painful, focused She gives birth, we give birth to the promised New Earth. We at last take our place among the Stars. —Debra Denker December 20, 2020 Debra Denker is the author of the cli-fi time travel novel Weather Menders.
Fresco at Dendera Temple, Egypt.
Weather Menders 
I am deeply moved by these pearls of wisdom from this beautifully written poem that is a soul adventure through stages of grief and rebirth leaving us hopeful. The gifted author, Debra Denker, blesses each of us with this awakening through her expressive language of love.