I know that life is about seasons. Seasons of joy followed by seasons of sorrow. Seasons of peace followed by seasons of conflict. Seasons of plenty followed by seasons of loss. I get that.
But God sometimes seems to throw road blocks in the way happiness. Things that make no sense whatsoever. When that happens, I have to ask myself, "Where is God in this moment?" It feels as though God takes a step back, turns off His phone, doesn't answer our texts on purpose. (Of course, I know that God doesn't cause tragedy. He doesn't work that way. God takes human tragedy and transforms it, if we let Him. Yet, in my limited human understanding, I sometimes still feel abandoned in a crisis. Even Christ felt this in His most human moments. "My God, my God! Why have you abandoned me?" Sound familiar?)
Today is one of those days. A season of joy followed by sorrow. I am at a loss for words this afternoon, so I turn to poetry, as I always do. A poem I wrote about two years ago for a person I love who was struggling with grief.
Saint Marty sends healing thoughts out into the universe this rainy day.
Thoughts of Darkness and Light
on the Winter Solstice
by: Martin Achatz
The
night, as long as Cecil B. Demille’s
The Ten Commandments,
starts with baby
wail
in bulrushes, stones the size
of
elephants, plagues of blood and darkness.
Ribs
of light crack off, disappear
into
the belly of star and cloud and cold.
No
moon, just endless moments of ash,
smolder,
embers of everything day.
I
sit in the lobby of a hotel in a city
at
the edge of polar night, think of you,
the
eclipse of your life, how light
stays
in the corners where you still find
pieces
of paper with her handwriting,
books
dogeared by her fingers,
presents
purchased, waiting
for
the bright wrap of morning.
Darkness
can be a friend, hold you
when
bright grief batters your heart, sneaks
into
those fissures, cracks,
like
light seeping under a door frame
into
a lightless room. Darkness holds
the
possibility that you might see her again,
her
shadow fingers in your hair,
rearranging
gray locks, shadow
palms
on your cheeks,
warming
paper skin, shadow
words
in your ears, whispering
about
the resurrection of Christmas,
how
you will find her in an evergreen
bush,
burning with mountain fire.
She
will carve her name in the stone
tablets
of your heart.
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