Dec 2014
~
it is a storm approaching
not the tempestuous kind
of driving rain or whirling wind
but a storm all the same
a marriage of sorts
of joy and of tears
of hopes and of fears
of death and of life
of what has come
with what has not yet
where photos and albums
and letters and cards
are all we can touch
of what has gone by.
yet there's a tree to light
there are gifts to wrap
their are cards to send
to loved ones dear
when the hug that we wish
the one we most want
is the one we can't give
this our loss has tied us in knots.
for memories and laughter
their kindest words
their shouts of joy,
these fade away
yet they’re all that remain
these join us at the table
these call in the park
at Sunday Mass
and post office,
but especially the back porch,
when it is quiet and dark.
they join us at parties
where thoughts of our missing
joins the gay, happy greetings
and on Christmas morn
when our gifts lie unopened
their chair is empty still
at dinner there's a space
that no one else will ever fill
in its place is a candle
a scent we know well
a light we'll not extinguish
perhaps it is the closest we can get
to their presence we so miss.
the storm on the inside
one that no one else sees
as they stroll down the street
as they shop merrily
our hearts beat hard but quietly.
inside we are breaking
this storm threatens to drown
yet there is no one around
who can save us
who ever would notice
or even know how to care.
its the cry of our heart
that no one can hear.
our tears brushed aside
hoping no one can see
this storm it is raging,
raging wildly in me.
i looked for a card
my thoughts to express
but the cards in the store
say nothing like this
no words such as weeping
or anguish are found
no phrases with lonely or angry
in the Christmas card aisle
so just how to reconcile
my juxtaposition?
how can I quell
this sense of foreboding
that i know all too well?
truth is, i cannot
i must go through
with this marriage
and pray that some day
some day soon, I can hope
that i will awaken
to see sunshine again
and consider these memories
not nightmares, but friends.
~
post script.
"blessed are those who morn, for they shall be comforted" Matthew 5:4
*these are so many among us who mourn, in particular at what are otherwise joyous occasions. for these ones, Christmas only adds to the acuteness of their pain. for them, Christmas is a storm they know is coming, a time when they must prepare for, battening down the hatches of their soul, so they are assured their grief does not leak out on the joy of everyone around. my advice for us all- know who walks near you well enough to reach out to them, give them a shoulder to weep on, share your tears with theirs. assure them you have not forgotten. repeat the name of their loved one, a name they long to hear others speak. for most of us, this name is one you cannot say too often. speak in the present tense of their loved one for they are not lost, they are still present and very much a part of the grieving one's life. as just one of many examples, remember... a mother who has lost her only child is still a mother. it is a title that she still bears, coming with all the burden, yet without any future benefit, these having been stripped away. love her, hold her, be shelter for her heart in the coming Christmas storm.
it is a storm approaching
not the tempestuous kind
of driving rain or whirling wind
but a storm all the same
a marriage of sorts
of joy and of tears
of hopes and of fears
of death and of life
of what has come
with what has not yet
where photos and albums
and letters and cards
are all we can touch
of what has gone by.
yet there's a tree to light
there are gifts to wrap
their are cards to send
to loved ones dear
when the hug that we wish
the one we most want
is the one we can't give
this our loss has tied us in knots.
for memories and laughter
their kindest words
their shouts of joy,
these fade away
yet they’re all that remain
these join us at the table
these call in the park
at Sunday Mass
and post office,
but especially the back porch,
when it is quiet and dark.
they join us at parties
where thoughts of our missing
joins the gay, happy greetings
and on Christmas morn
when our gifts lie unopened
their chair is empty still
at dinner there's a space
that no one else will ever fill
in its place is a candle
a scent we know well
a light we'll not extinguish
perhaps it is the closest we can get
to their presence we so miss.
the storm on the inside
one that no one else sees
as they stroll down the street
as they shop merrily
our hearts beat hard but quietly.
inside we are breaking
this storm threatens to drown
yet there is no one around
who can save us
who ever would notice
or even know how to care.
its the cry of our heart
that no one can hear.
our tears brushed aside
hoping no one can see
this storm it is raging,
raging wildly in me.
i looked for a card
my thoughts to express
but the cards in the store
say nothing like this
no words such as weeping
or anguish are found
no phrases with lonely or angry
in the Christmas card aisle
so just how to reconcile
my juxtaposition?
how can I quell
this sense of foreboding
that i know all too well?
truth is, i cannot
i must go through
with this marriage
and pray that some day
some day soon, I can hope
that i will awaken
to see sunshine again
and consider these memories
not nightmares, but friends.
~
post script.
"blessed are those who morn, for they shall be comforted" Matthew 5:4
*these are so many among us who mourn, in particular at what are otherwise joyous occasions. for these ones, Christmas only adds to the acuteness of their pain. for them, Christmas is a storm they know is coming, a time when they must prepare for, battening down the hatches of their soul, so they are assured their grief does not leak out on the joy of everyone around. my advice for us all- know who walks near you well enough to reach out to them, give them a shoulder to weep on, share your tears with theirs. assure them you have not forgotten. repeat the name of their loved one, a name they long to hear others speak. for most of us, this name is one you cannot say too often. speak in the present tense of their loved one for they are not lost, they are still present and very much a part of the grieving one's life. as just one of many examples, remember... a mother who has lost her only child is still a mother. it is a title that she still bears, coming with all the burden, yet without any future benefit, these having been stripped away. love her, hold her, be shelter for her heart in the coming Christmas storm.
