*** A mother’s day poem:
Blessed mother’s day
God and all mothers
Your milk licked
From our lips
*** The Unforgiven:
*** At the same time that my 60 year old battered and broken heart was struggling for life in the hospital a few weeks ago (see earlier post) back home on the island a young seven year old friend of my grand daughter died suddenly from a genetic heart defect that no one even suspected that she had. She was found dead in the family’s horse pasture after she had gone out riding alone. At first it was thought that the horse had kicked her, but later it was confirmed that she died from heart failure.
*** In the hospital room next to mine a young 42 year old man was stuck down with a severe heart attack. My wife Lynda noticed his mother in the waiting room. The mother was old and frail and she was trembling with fear and grief. This was the old woman’s only child. My wife and daughters spent time with the mother, praying with her and for her son and trying to comfort her over the next few days. The son died the day I was discharged.
*** Something that I have learned by spending time with the sick and the dying over the years is to never try to accomplish with money, logic, reasoning, or theology, what is better handled with poetry, tears, love, and whiskey.
*** Whoever lives or dies, “deserves” got nothing to do with it.
*** I quote this from Mother Teresa all the time but let me say it again: “Christianity is not a matter of taking on extra pain. It's a matter of taking on the pain of being who we are, and patiently bearing with ourselves and the slow work of God.” How much tribulation do we bring into this world by rejecting the pain of being who we are, the pain that is God’s portion for us, in favor of heroic programs, missions, and constructing theories of how to eliminate all suffering in the abstract. The people I know who speak from the wisdom of their own pain seem to have the most to offer to others who are actually suffering.
“Let's face it. We're undone by each other,” Judith Butler.
Let’s Face It. A poem by Daniel Imburgia
Let's face it
We're undone by each other
Still bodies within breath
Inner fires quenched and cold
All our promises kept and broken
Now vaulted away
Enfolding our lover's hands
A rosary strung from archives
All these words come to nothing
My dear, my heart, my life, my love
Prospecting faces of the other
Thralled and bearing my grief as
Desires are undone and
Our narrative unravels
Weaving the clouds
A murmuration of starlings
As one being
Confuses the chanting Goshawks