Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning

Thursday, May 23, 2019

One day I'll weep

“And with every step I took it became more impossible for me to turn back. And my mind was empty—or it was as though my mind had become one enormous, anesthetized wound. I thought only, One day I'll weep for this. One of these days I'll start to cry.”
 James Baldwin, Giovanni's Room

I sit and stare blankly at the screen
my mind is empty
my hands are still

I do not know how long I sit this way
My mind,
My heart
My soul
An anaesthetized wound

I am preoccupied
With children, hands on their heads, feeling another shooting
Their faces, stunned and empty
Are the faces of my grandchildren

My soul is assailed
By the evil
And greed
By the disregard for people
That leaps out of my computer
That flows from my television
Tearing at the very fabric of who I am

I move from anger, to disgust
From fear to (yes I admit it) hate
From shock to sadness to profound grief

It is bad enough that people in power abuse it
That people with privilege exploit it

It is bad enough that people do ungodly things
In the name of God

But what shatters me
Is that so many do not care

They do

About the poor
The vulnerable
The hurting
The aged
The ill

They simply do not care

As long as they believe (and it often is not fact)
That what is happening benefits them
Protects them
Empowers them

They don’t care if people are left behind

They don’t care if children get shot in school
They don’t care if children are separated from their parents
They don’t care if refugees are denies refuge
They don’t care if the earth is destroyed, bit by bit
They don’t care I millions of species are in danger of extinction
They don’t care that the Constitution is trampled
They don’t care that people born LGBTQI are demonized and oppressed
They don’t care about the life of an 11 year old rape victim
They don’t care about Native Americans who are systematical oppressed
They just don’t care

As long as they gain (even if it is only for a short while)
As long as they feel safe
Or powerful

And this makes my heart hurt
This is a wound that will not go away

and so I sit an stare
my soul numb
hoping it will all go away
hoping that people will wake up to the Sacred
hoping against hope

trying to follow the path of Father Abraham
fighting to believe

there are no easy answers
people will jump in with formula faith and insist I just need to have more faith
people will tell me to trust
people will insist I simply do not know the big picture
(and if I did I would be fine)

But I lament
As did the author of Lamentations
As did the Psalmist
As did almost every prophet (every real prophet), ever
As did Jesus in the Garden
As did Paul, persistently tormented

I sit, and
I lament

And then I walk
Left foot,
Right foot
Left foot breathe

I watch the sun set, and the skies turn golden
I watch young, curious calves,  gather to
Google at Finn the dog (who is after all just their size)
If feel the breeze
And smell the pines

And the numbness resolves
And I can feel again
Breathe again
My heart still hurt
My mind still rages

But there is a place
Deep in my soul
Where the Sacred lives

And against all hope
I believe

And so tomorrow I will travel to the State Capital
And Thursday I will chair meetings
And Friday I will return to a former church
And do the funeral of a friend

And Saturday I will try
To grab that people of hope
And write a sermon

About ironically, hearing the voice of Jesus

And so I will walk
And walk
And walk

On foot in front of the other
Out of the numbness
And back into life.

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