Friday, June 14, 2013

Exploring Grief: Two Poems

WITH

Who can say when the hard things begin?
Babies are born crying a haunted cry.
Troubles of a measure too many.
And though different, they pierce where we are most tender.
Always.
The undoing of our hope;
The nights with no stars
And the days of no beginnings.
Joy loses all direction;
Is absent in the morning.
This is loss,
And numbness the only reprieve.
Find me,
And sit with me in the horror.
Speak compassion with eyes, not tongue.
I am too hollow to be touched,
Yet I need you near.


Soul Mate

Let me not be your lighthouse;
It can stand so cold against the shore.
Distant.
Mocking with the "not yet"
Of your safe arrival.
And I look too much the hero
I certainly am not.
I'll join you on the makeshift raft,
Lashing lantern to the mast.
When arms grow weak from violent rudder
You'll have the feeble help of my grasp.
And if dashed on the rocks,
At least we go not alone.
For where hope can buoy no more
Love is there still,
Willing to sink
Into the wild sea.

4 comments:

  1. Oh, Jamie - poignantly haunting and deep! Love you!

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  2. I think it takes the record for "strangest" post to this date. :)

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  3. I missed your comment until today. I'm glad it spoke to you. My soul can't seem to stop spilling over with all of this. Immanuel is indeed near to the brokenhearted.

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  4. Raw, intense, eloquent. The revelation that Immanuel came to suffer with, not just for, us.

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