Category Archives: grief

The Servant King

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Isaiah 42:1-4 (NIV)
“Here is my servant, whom I uphold,
my chosen one in whom I delight; I will put my Spirit on him, and he will bring justice to the nations. [2] He will not shout or cry out, or raise his voice in the streets. [3] A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out. In faithfulness he will bring forth justice; [4] he will not falter or be discouraged till he establishes justice on earth. In his teaching the islands will put their hope.”

Happy Birthday to Me

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Last year I had not yet written an obscure self-published memoir called Just: a story of the lost and found.

I was not on Facebook. I was a private citizen wading through the havoc and grief caused by our decision to adopt a boy who would rob us all of our innocence.

My birthday is a watermark. Three years ago I did not know my children were being abused. We found out the weekend of Columbus Day 2009.

Rough memory
It stalks through family
Pictures, movies
Dates and times
No one is safe from it
The dark ominous
Scowl of truth

I have given myself some birthday gifts:
The gift of freedom from what people think
The gift of mobility
The gift of prayer (to the God Who Indeed Lives)
The gift of preservation and strength for my children
I have walked away from people I wanted to trust because they did not fight for my children
I fought instead

So it will be strange for me today, my birthday because I do celebrate these years–this gift of a broken life redeemed.

And I bless my God, my Friend for this new community He has given me

In place of the years
The locusts have eaten

The Hell of Words

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Once
When you were still a boy
I walked with you
Into cool water in a dying light
No deeper than your waist
Although the gulf itself
Stretched for miles
Out forever

When I draw words for hell
I get them from Sartre
Not Jesus
Or Dante
Like lighting a match
To draw fire

This room is airless enough
The faces of it’s inhabitants
Never vary/a rictus of pain

I wonder…
Are you as afraid as I am
Of the little things
That last
Forever?
And the possibility
That there will be
No way out.

The Ghosts

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We have to talk about it
Even though we don’t want to
The ways we are broken
The way the past haunts me

I don’t think it haunts you
The same
Like two different ghosts
Mine brings me beautiful picture
Then wryly points to
The darkness behind them

And yours
Merely piles
Rejection letters on your desk
From all the cool people
And the clubs they go to
Without us

Eclipse of Light

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It was a solar eclipse
Splashing darkness
Across half the earth
Like a child stretching his blanket
Across the bare
Wood staircase–
Upstairs young man!
His mother admonishes

Never realizing
His life is the smallest
Gossamer thread

From her life to mine

They say
if you try
To look
Directly into the sun
During an eclipse
Seek professional help

Do they mean scientists or
Psychology?

I won’t know.

I just
Know
That staring
Straight into the
Face of God himself
Is impossible hubris
Unless…
The shadow of the Cross
Shields the mortal
Eye

Forgiveness

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Definitions of forgiveness
1. The Man on the Cross bleeding love out in each dying breath
2. The little girl abused until she was five who is so afraid of hell (thanks to Dante Alighieri) who says:

Even though it still hurts
To know what Charles
Did to me
I don’t want him
To go to hell

The pain of it all
Never ebbing
From her beautiful
Face.

The bodies of our dead

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You will say to me
Why are you grieving?
And I will show you the limp form
In my hands

You will ask
What is it?
And I will say
A dead salamander

You will say
They cannot live for long
And I will say
But it had a name–
I cannot say it

And you will ask
What is the big deal?
And I will tell you
Hope.

But what I will not say is that the prone and lifeless
Body of a man
Too easily resembles
This ephemeral creature

The day I spent for him
The last day I spent for him
Looking for a hat
Big enough to cover his fatal
Head injury
Fatal head injury
Never far from mind
The bodies of our dead.

The Rain Dance

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I see the light
Pouring out
Over the lawn at night
The girls in their pretty
Dresses fan out in the lines
Demarcating light and darkness
Can you hear the haunting
Music?
I can
The strings of slow lament
The partygoers
Lurching toward the wrought
Iron gates
Boozy and fatigued
Wondering
who will show us the way home?

Sky

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I ask him
Do you ever want to eat a
Peanut butter sandwich
Not because you are hungry
But because you are
Sad?

Yes. He says
And somehow this helps
Not because he is thin
And I am not
No.
Because the loss
The sandwich cannot heal
Must be faced
Hungry.