Struck by tragedy, misfortune and life’s unfathomable chaotic turns, one may lose words — to express self, to share, to stay open, to reach out to gather what’s needed for survival and healing. That’s a human way.
Perhaps one can ponder when facing a being in such a state of no-words. Even without words, the being suffers, hurts, sheds tears, mourns, grieves. So the witnessing is crucial — to allow a scaffolding womb of love and safety around the being — so the wounded can stay present knowing another is awaiting to touch, to support, to care for their soul.
So the words must come from those around the one who suffers. They must find the words, to reach out, to show love, warmth and tenderness. They must not shy away from the intense pain, the gruesome torment and darkness that hover around the wounded. For distancing oneself from the wounded means distancing oneself from humanity, avoiding other’s sorrows and miseries show the ruthless callous machinations of the mind — so unwanted.
