Tuesday, July 7, 2009


She sits, rocking, looking at the empty cradle,
The yellow walls scream, mocking,
Her heart, broken in pieces,
“Why” is too simple.
There are no words.
Life is backwards, inside-out.
Light has become dark.
The yellow has turned to grey.
How to keep believing?
She mourns and weeps.
Can we understand on this side?
Should we try?
Just taking it as it comes,
Trusting, even when there is no trust left.
Tears crystallized into jewels,
Kept in a jar to be poured out,
As perfume at His feet.
Still, “why?” is too small.
A language of grief unutterable.
Guttural moans, sobs,
Life over but days keep coming.
Hopes dashed on rocks, promised life snuffed.
But can we see all?
What if….
He is carried in greater arms?
He is rocked to sleep by one who never sleeps?
He will never feel pain or sorrow?
He is parented by the Father of life?
Death has opened into life, and the morning of joy has come?
He will learn to walk in fields of lilies?
He will dance on streets of gold?
He will live the life that we taste in our sweetest dreams?
Still she weeps,
For her loss is greater than her own life.
Yet she mourns with joy,
Not as one without hope.
And her faith grows as she knows:
One day she will hold him again.

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