Friday, September 17, 2010

After Her Death

I am trying to find the lesson for tomorrow.
Matthew something. Which lectionary?
I have not forgotten the Way, but a little,
the way to the Way.
the trees keep whispering peace, peace,
and the birds in the shallows are full of the
bodies of small fish and are content.
They open their wings so easily, and fly.
So. It is still possible.

I open the book
which the strange, difficult, beautiful church
has given me. To Matthew. Anywhere.

Mary has lost her partner of many years I have learned. So, we have our first poem of this difficult time for her. She turns to birds and trees and her beloved pond, and something more. Always something more. For surely, such love, and such pain cannot be contained in poems or mere telling of the past. She yearns for something more, something new, just as long as it is something. It can be anywhere, just so there is peace and understanding, a way to fly towards the melding of self with love. If we could just lose ourselves totally, which we have already done greatly when a loved one dies, but long to do completely, we might just survive the loss and make sense of life's grandeur. It is difficult in our cultural context to come up with words that hold death, life, love, awe, wonder, loss, beauty, the ache of separation, and the ecstasy of interconnection. So why not God I say?

What is your Way? How do you get there?

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