mourning

buried 

the weight of the lost in tidal mourning. this mourning...the eyes gasped with personal amputated families. a child buried. burning pyres. tarped bodies. kneeling heaving of wailing. hands outstretched. empty answered prayers. tears flooding the nations. candles melting tears.

My harp is tuned to mourning,

and my flute to the sound of wailing

Job 30:31

the appearance of the darkness of this era of history. bring forth a moment of quiet. i yearn for this mourning to turn to dancing. to be able to see beyond...oh my dearest Lord. Give us your son to your ailing world...and recall us to your afflictions...

the brutality of death...without hope and may we receive the mercy of witness...

"After the suffering of his soul,

he will see the light of life and be satisfied;

by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many,

and he will bear their iniquities."

Isaiah 53:11

Dearest One, extend your pierced hands. hard of breath...join the world in this story...may your name Emmanuel (God with us) be more than the rebuilding of concrete, of towns but the home of hearts. where there is absence may you offer presence. where there are sinking heads may you provide a shoulder. where there is the loneliness of suffering, may you weep with them as you did at Lazarus's tomb...Jesus, I believe in you...that your arms are not too short...allow the manifestation of the gospel to be worthy of your name...this is my prayer...

in the center of this conflicted prayer I continue to whisper...

emmanuel