The Cone of Silence

after almost exactly 30 years 

I return to the original cone of silence

Scooped not by time and chance but the

Actual-true-hand of God

near the plain of Megiddo

where bad, terrible, awful things have, did, and will 

Happen.

You have a tell, my dear

In all your smack talk about leprechauns and canine destinations for women

At 2:30 in the morning

the aircraft flies too loud, too close

to my insomnia 

I remember your anger is your origami armor

against the wounded you-us-story

sewn into the cloak

of every disguise you put on

in vain.

Anger in the roses

your birthday falls

between the Ides of February and

pruning day for roses

when the master gardener

makes them sound so alive, so fragile, so human

the way you once were

Boy without words for the monsters

we all become without the Antidote 

without the blood transfusion 

without the interventionist God

Who somehow, ineluctably abides

this fallen terrible

world where children, babies even

grow up thinking both antichrist and apocalypse are normal

Whole time grown ups

Just shout the most destructive platitudes

into the shotgun corridor of

This unbearable

desolation.

Magi at the park

They emerged from an ordinary 

van

…wore ordinary clothes

shuffled toward me along uneven

lines

squinting, sun-struck

I realized: Magi!

come close enough for

greetings and salutations 

along the usual

Lines of dignitaries and princes-

Hands shaken; eyes met 

they said oh, it is you!

(Me?) their honored guest?

regretting I had no

Gold, frankincense, myrrh to give them

Come so far we all are 

children of the King.

Grace Packer, death by adoption?

When I was a foster parent in Beaver, PA in the late 1990s I was devastated to uncover adoptions going on in contravention of law and decency.

Some of the cases were covered by The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette and 48 Hours.  The ACLU sued the county. 

The state did nothing.

One wonders if Grace Parker and her birth family were victims of the same kind of nefarious adoption scheme?

Horrible to think that the serious, maybe illegal actions of child welfare agencies are thoroughly shielded by confidentiality laws.

Even more horrible to think that Sara Packer may have used the federal money given to her to provide for Grace to buy the cat litter they used to disguise her murder.

Weighted Blanket

in a fit of unease 

she has an out-of-body experience 

Rising above the squalor

Imagining what it would be like

To live inside the perfect house

Instead–she dusts the counters and all the edges

with cinnamon to deter the sugar ants

Beats the air with questions

Washes and re-washes clothes, stones, teeth 

Delays bodily functions  

To search for

-The weighted blanket-

Surrogate mother/synthetic comforter

Lyrics/verses 

of a lullaby sung softly by the

Real One

God of the Impossible

John 11:4 NIV[4] When he heard this, Jesus said, “This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it.”

What is impossible?  Is gravity?  The suspension of gravity?  Space flight? Sea urchins?

We live in a world filled with wonder and darkness.  The wonder feels improbably miraculous until the darkness throws an extreme curve ball and bam!

Death takes all.

Or so it seems.

When Jesus says this sickness will not end in death it seems like he knows what he is talking about.

Several days later when he weeps with the mourners he seems like a total nut job.  Until…

I am going to hold that until–single note sung in the dark.

Some of the untils we weep through are excoriating, catastrophic…terminal.

It is important to pause at Jesus’ pronouncement.  If you know the story you might be tempted to breeze through to “the good stuff,” but in this case time takes the stage–time for Lazarus to go from well to unwell, time for Lazarus to go from unwell to fatally ill.  Time for Lazarus to die.  Time for Lazarus to be prepared for the grave.  Time for grief.  Disbelief.  Sorrow. Anger. 

And the apparent  absence of Jesus.

But…

He is not absent.  He is impossible.  He is the God of the impossible.

Wait.  Impossible means powerless, the opposite of able.  

How can God, by his very nature omnipotent, be defined as not able.

Deliberately. He was intentionally…

“not able” in death.

“not able” on the Cross.

“not able” for us.

Jesus called Lazarus out of the grave in preparation for his own death.  He gave his followers an impossible four day route through death and burial so that when it was his death they would only have to wait three days.

The three darkest days of history.  Three impossible days.

Until…

Sunday morning and the God of impossible things walks back in.

When you were little your foster father would throw you in the air above him.  Within one second your face would register fear, exhilaration,  joy, laughter.

It has always been a picture in my head–this God of sea urchins and dwarf stars throws us high up in the air for each single looped thread in the seam of  all eternity.  

The fear and uncertainty only bearable when we know, know, know…

He will catch us in His arms.

As He has already caught your beautiful mama, let Him catch us too…

Forever.

Safe in the outstretched arms 

of Love.

Luke 18:27 NIV

[27] Jesus replied, “What is impossible with man is possible with God.”