Words Come Hard

Dear Community,

This past week was a rough one.
Using the word ‘terrible’ might also be justified.

The face I saw on my mother when she lost a son
I saw again this week on a friend.
It pierced my heart deeply.

Words come hard for me in times of personal tragedy.
I feel them forming in my heart
Beginning to grow and looking for a way out
Wanting to fly to the bereaved making their unbearable pain vanish as though I had the touch of Christ.

To see the griever smile again!

Only some of the words find their way to my lips
And they come out grossly inadequate.
So I stutter and mumble.

Some of the words flow through to my arms
To shape a hug of partial understanding laced with lots of care;
Other words emerge from my eyes in the form of teardrops
But they don’t match the ones from his eyes.

To see the griever smile again!

He probably couldn’t see me there in the crowd of supporters and grievers
But I was there, hoping he knew I would take all the pain from him if I could.

But, I don’t have that power,
So when he cries, I will cry too.
And when he mourns, I will mourn, too.
For in sharing the grief, maybe we can diminsh the pain just a bit.

“Vulnerable we are, like an infant. We need each other’s care or we will suffer.” - St. Catherine of Siena

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

Br. Daniel-Joseph, CTG
Guardian