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.
Tag Archives: Death
“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.
To Marry and Die
Not all heroes and heroines must marry and die. One must be born first. Born into reason, nature and spirit. Filled with a bit of mystery. Stirred by the hands of fate. And witness the flowering of a day lily. And the sighing pshaw of the chickadee. Each moment may bring surprise but more often than not it will be followed by another moment. Sometimes my day passes trying to get at the meaning of yesterday. Did I worship everything meaningfully? And, how important was it for me to do so? Maybe greeting a passerby is more than enough. Enough does not have to be the best. Time still follows the worst which, though crushed, can no longer witness how it becomes history. Perhaps, and again perhaps, what is worn and what becomes do not have to marry and die.
Perishing
"...the bourgeois individual perishes ingloriously..." - Reinhold Niebuhr Nothing like going down in flames to warm the soul. Or, perhaps a slow decay should draw more attention as atom after atom zip off into the realm of the ether. One eternity becomes another in each moment in time; one particularity an opportunity for the next. We study some moments as if they were more eternal than others; points in time where death visited with fanfare and fingers pointed, astonished, like death had never happened before. The last act of God in history may very well be a fizzle but that does not mean that nothing in the here and now should not make some sort of sense to the ones perishing.
To Live, Just Once
I keep "Minute" perpetually on my shopping list, hoping to find one on the grocery shelf tucked between the dried blueberries and granola. And then to find another and another and another. A strange way to seek immortality - no less bizarre than traipsing off through a jungle in search of some mythical fountain of life where a sip of bubbling water promises an additional breath for each breath drawn. To live another day - to experience one more hurricane, more casualties of war, a sunrise and another summer of the buzz of cicadas - with permission from life to get out of bed and to be a beginner again. Is one experience of body-surfing a wave into the beach not enough? The taste of banana taffy again? To hold the hand of my beloved? Or do I search for more time afraid that, like birth, death will only happen once?
Maintenance Required
I cannot imagine a soul apart from the body. And, I understand the dynamics of soul-attachment are not meant for me to know. But if I, my soul, am to float away up into the heavens upon whatever breeze that blows when I die, I would like to enjoy the ride with the body that I leave behind. There are those, perhaps many, who look forward to that day of detachment from disease, paralysis and fear that inhabits the corporeal. Yet, what is this the Psalmist writes, God keeps alive and restores souls? Does this not change the yearning for moving along after death if maintenance is still required?
A Thread You Follow 