it it pride?
seizes my heart
clings, desperate
to be held
to be known
to be understood
where is the wine
that falls from the skies
to rain dance
to baptize
is letting go
something you do
or something
you don’t do?
is it death
or is it life?
something in me
longs like a child
who lost his mother
where is home?
Grief is the lover who gives
And gives
And gives
And waits
And does not receive
And dies of starvation.
Grief is why the widow —
Who once slept peaceful
In her lover's arms;
Who once had dreams
Instead of memories;
Who once caressed
Her lover's cheek and lips,
Lost in cosmic wonder —
Cannot eat more than
A spoonful of soup.
Grief is
Going home without,
And never again
Going out with home.
In this world, there are places with God and places without God. That is for a very good reason. If there were no places without God, we would have nowhere to run from him.
For God’s love to be real, we must have the freedom to refuse it, to refuse him. It’s not true love if it’s not a gift, and it’s not a gift unless it can be refused. If we couldn’t refuse it, it would be an imposition, not a gift.
God makes his love a gift by giving us places to go where his love is not, where he is not. But a place without God, the source of all life, is a place with death. Death is the cost of a world where love exists.
Because we are loved, death is a part of this world.
Today, Catholics celebrate Passion Sunday, in which we remember Christ being deeply troubled upon seeing his friend, Mary of Bethany, weeping.
In John 11:33, Christ’s behavior is described with an intense Greek word, enebrimēsato, that translates to something like “he snorted in spirit.” Christ groaned from the depths of his soul, like a sobbing child, upon seeing the pain that death has caused his friend. He grieves at the pain caused by loving imperfect lovers.