I brushed my hair today.
I went out into the world of chatter-
I talked to people I care for,
About subjects that matter-
I laughed with my children.
I ran errands overdue
I ate only good foods.
Underneath and out of view,
I felt so awful, I didn’t know how
To travel into the next heartbeat.
But on I forged in caravan
Of breath, and will, and fumbling feet,
And some kind of social gravity,
Like chaotic steps emblazoned on a dance floor
I fumble through graceless
Stomping feet, unsure
If it constitutes a dance.
Knowing You are leading,
And I’m in Your hands.
The unbearable weight of sadness
From the depths of humanity torn,
Where a wound to any is a wound to all,
And the blood cries out from the ground
Pooling in accumulated tragedy,
An affront to all intent of design,
And the blood and loss and anguish must be heard,
And it will be heard.
I remember you
Walking in slowly like fingertips
Transversing a weeping piano
Notes as quiet drops slowing,
Collecting on the pane
That holds us at bay.
I heard you
Humming a doleful dirge
Between the bars
That stir our hearts
To refrain, to merriment, to holiday-
Your solemnity undergirding
The beauty of your sway.