In Spite of Everything

Another poem written at the Heinemann Boothbay Literacy Retreat, June 25, 2013.  It's a "found" poem based on a line from an Edward Hirsch poem: "In Spite of Everything, the Stars."

In spite of everything, God
is still in charge.
I mean--He's there.
He sees all, knows all.
He's engaged in a great war
testing whether mercy
trumps justice.

In spite of everything, I
don't blame Him.
Not for wars, pestilence,
Hate, loss.
All the things that bring down
happiness.
And life.

In spite of everything, He
loves us.
this I know.
I've seen it.
Heard it.
Felt it.
Deep in the marrow
of my bones.

In spite of everything, Love
will triumph over evil.
The lame will walk,
the blind will see.
And we.
Shall.
All.
Be.
Changed.
In spite of everything.

Joy Comes in the Morning

"Weeping endures for the night, but joy comes in the morning." Psalm 30:5 (last part).  So many of my family members and friends have endured deep, shattering loss lately.  My heart hurts for them as they navigate the aftermath that can threaten to overwhelm at any given moment.  This text can be taken literally and figuratively.  The night and the morning can mean the here and now, or it can mean the here and the hereafter.

When my father passed away, the only consolation was the morning--not the next morning, the morning after, but the Resurrection morning, the Reunion morning.  Several of the losses have been parents or siblings.  This morning's was a long ago friend who bravely fought cancer for a few decades but has finally taken a rest from her labors and is awaiting that great getting up morning.

Loss can overwhelm us if we have nothing more to look forward to.  Loss can all but take us down without the great power of Salvation.  Maya Angelou reminds us that "we need joy as we need air.  We need love as we need water."  Thank God that His Love can overcome all and bring Joy in the morning--if not tomorrow, then certainly on the Resurrection Morning.

My Father

My father
Used to walk
so fast
I had to run to catch
his shadow.
Always one step ahead--
maybe more--
Literally.  Philosophically.
Theologically.

A leader.
A path finder.
A way maker.

All that was years ago.
But then
pain.
Crippling pain.
Pain that slows feet and fight.
Pain that stands him still.
Angry.
Compromised.
Except for his mind.

Now, while I slow my steps for his
syncopated stutter-stepped shuffle
he still outruns my mind--
day and night.

I want to cry out
against this injustice
because it is categorically
not fair--
not part of the plan decades
ago--

But I know that
Life is not fair
nor just.
It marches on
regardless.  Trampling
on plans made in our prime.
So I don't.  Instead
I find solace in
what there is in moments
not days or even hours.
Moments.
I find comfort in the hope he holds on to that
In a moment
In a twinkling of an eye . . .
We will all be changed.

This is another poem that I wrote during the Boothbay Harbor Literacy Retreat I attended in July 2013.  Two years later (4 years ago), my dad passed away after a long struggle with debilitating pain that was difficult to witness.  This poem touches on the only thing that comforts me in this giant loss:  the Hope of seeing him again one day, without the pain that stole him from us.