Skip to main content

Cloak of Sorrows

Like a robe 'round you darkens
All your thoughts and friendly smiles;
Like reptilian skins you've itched
And split but failed to shed;
Like a crowd of unborn babes
You thought you ought to have
Are these sorrows and injustices
Gathered round you with their stares.

They want naught but to know,
How could such wrongs fail to mar you so?
And until you give an answer,
They'll spoil your appetite for words
Of faith and songs of praise
And rejoicing for your friends.

That is how pain keeps the being within
And pain becomes the armor without
And pain becomes the soothing balm
That lessens the itch of wanting out.
Pain feels more real than any delight;
And it whispers vain hopes 
In your ears at night,
"If you suffer the world's sorrows,
The world will then suffer yours."

When, oh, when will sorrow find its place:
The distasteful herb at the passover feast?
When, oh when will grief no longer act
As the signpost to the forks at every turn in your path?
When, oh, when will you no longer define  
Yourself by these shadows that neither know your design
Nor your nature with divinity intertwined?

When? I know not but I know one day 
All your skins will fall off and your freed lungs will fill
With the songs your heart has been yearning to trill.
Unrealized wishes will dissipate at that dawn
Which shows every contour of what lurked in the dark.
And unrobed, you'll not flinch at those blows not aimed at you
When you cease expecting from others what they cannot do.
Finally then love will saturate your being all throughout
And love will shed the skin for the soul to get out.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Baptism Testimony

I didn't used to want to be baptized. I was too stubborn. I was determined to be the upright, genuine Christian who wasn't baptized—something of a superior class, I suppose. All that physical symbolism was for the archaic layman or the really emotional sort or the person who's afraid baptism is necessary for salvation. It's not for me. It's not for the steady, reliable believer who's doesn't have a big conversion story. I was in preschool when I prayed the prayer. In 6th grade, I gained a deeper understanding of sin while bickering with my siblings in the backseat of the family van. When I was 16, I began a daily quiet time with the Lord. And now at 36, I'm hearing the Lord asking me to make my faith work. Make the rubber meet the road. Get out of "morbid introspection and into deeds," out of "anxious hesitation and into the storm of events" (Rohr & Ebert, 129-130). Stop retreating into my head to figure out God and salvation

Why the Enneagram Numbers Quarantine

Type 1: The Reformer     I quarantine because it's the right thing to do and everyone ought to be doing their part for society by following the same procedures. Type 2: The Helper     No, I'm not concerned about myself, but I quarantine for everyone else. I want to help my neighbors feel safe, and I would absolutely die if I found out I had passed on the virus to someone else. Type 3: The Performer    I quarantine because that's what's expected of me, right? Plus, think about how bad it would look if I didn't. Type 4: The Individualist     I would've loved to quarantine before all this started but now that everyone is doing it, I'm not so sure I want to follow along. I guess I'll quarantine but somehow find a way to still remain exceptional. Type 5: The Observer     I might quarantine. I might not. I probably will while researching the facts about this virus. When I know enough, I'll make a final decision. Type 6: The Guardian     I q

Wanting the Ends Without the Means

I want my children to learn to get along, But I don't want to hear them fight. I want them to feel their emotions and understand them, But I don't want them to slam doors or be sassy. I want them to be respectful to adults, But I don't want to be embarrassed when they say something totally inappropriate. I want them to choose to obey me, But I don't want to come up with consequences when they don't. I want them to fill their own time with play, But I don't want to clean up the mess when they put stickers on the walls or throw tomatoes over the neighbor's fence or carve into the walls or cut through the upholstery with scissors. I want them to be good. But I don't want to suffer through their becoming good. I want a rich and seasoned relationship with my husband, But I don't want to endure seasons of dryness or coldness or disinterestedness. I want to have friends who are different than me, But I don't want to hear their threatening opinions. I wa