Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them..." - Luke 13:4
Or those 59 who were killed
in a nightclub fire in Macedonia.
Or those 227,898 who were killed
when the Indian Ocean roared.
Or those 6,000,000 and millions more who were killed
when the whim of Hitler ruled.
Or the 1 of many who was killed
when Attila or Alexander swept across the plains.
It is not possible to think of them all
taken too early by war, famine, and disease,
taken by catastrophe, human error, and God's-error.
Is "taken" the right word for the death of numbers?
If so, who takes?
And, who receives?
Tag Archives: Death
Last Breath
I said, "So many phobias
have permission now
to be expressed."
She said, "Agreed. Try
holding a conversation
with someone who fears you."
I also agreed, "It is awfully
hard to talk while being
condemned for who you are."
She said, "Live and let live
is a dangerous policy without
any affirmation or acceptance."
I said, "Sometimes opening
our arms wide means an embrace
with death which may be coming."
She said, "Imagine the thoughts
of the loving martyrs before
they took their last breath."
Alive
"Death, I knew was cold." - Nicholas Wolterstorff
How convenient,
to be writing of death so soon
after my birthday.
Surely, birth and death
are the two inevitables of Life?
One necessarily following the other.
And one, meaning myself,
hopes, as others hope,
for as many days as possible
between the two expressions
of being mortal. Alive.
With Marie
One day we will dance together after the sun has set on both our lives. Any sense of separation will fall away. The angels of care will prevail over the demons of despair and we will step into heaven holding each other's hand like I used to do as you learned to take your first steps along the way. "What ifs?" will no longer matter. "Whys?" will not need to be figured out. The answer to "Where?" will be right beside each of us, gracefully and gratefully, smiling at the other.
“How can an age which is so devoid of poetic imagination as ours be truly religious?” – Reinhold Niebuhr
Perhaps people hesitate now before shedding the blood which atones for failures, indiscretions and ignorance. In hesitation, comfort can be found while taking away any sense of the poetic dance moving between lines. When was the last time any of us fell to our knees begging for the cup of death to be removed? We need that fall before we begin to write new poems.
“Now God is God not of the dead, but of the living…” – Luke 20:38
God in whom we live and have our very being, who enlivens all death, who effortlessly turns the pages of the Book of Life, who dances on graves, and who says "Yes" to every "No," the leaves fall, the ground hardens, the buried rest and we must go on living. The earth continues to turn and so many of those in the world continue their death-dealing ways. Dwell with us once again so we may join you in your divine dance holding hands with all of the ones who have gone before us into your music. Amen.
Leaving Weekends
People stand as the sweetness slowly evaporates and another life begins to step out of themselves. People wander through twisted wreckage along roadsides following accidents numb with shock at the fragility of life. Is it any wonder we leave weekends behind and follow death with tears beginning to fall down our faces?
“Love God and Do What You Will” – Augustine
People kill and people die from various interpretations of loving God. Better to breathe a mindful breath where place and desire no longer clash against the other.
And suddenly there was a great earthquake. – Matthew 28:2
Subtle God, Disquieting God, Stone Rolling God, who ruptures our reality with the nuance of shaking ground moving earth between Heaven and Hell, pick up the dust of our bodies, stir the center of our spirits, decompose our minds emboldening us once again to proclaim "Death is not the final answer" because so much around us silences us. Amen.
Said and Done
I have written about joys lived and unhappiness suffered for many days and years. The pages break time down. Line after line ties my body to ink on bound paper. The spirit travels by moving forward and backward between today and the past. I hope to not have to choose with my last act of free will between becoming a drop in the ocean or remaining myself or vanishing into nothingness. Some sort of combination depending upon my mood sounds nice. To not have sunsets and the laughter of a beloved surrounding me on a calm evening seems like a loss. Will I care? I hope so. And, after all has been said and done, I hope that my cares blend with the cares of others in some peaceful and decent way.
A Thread You Follow 