“There is a loneliness that can be rocked. Arms crossed, knees drawn up, holding, holding on, this motion, unlike a ship’s, smooths and contains the rocker. It’s an inside kind–wrapped tight like skin.
Then there is the loneliness that roams. No rocking can hold it down. It is alive. On its own.
A dry and spreading thing that makes the sound of one’s own feet going seem to come from a far-off place.”
― Toni Morrison, Beloved
Throughout my life (half a century to be exact), I have felt a kind of loneliness that could not be explained. There are many poets and writers that have been close to explaining the phenomenon, but Toni Morrison mostly for all for me, got under my skin and into my soul to help me make sense of the void.