Journey of things unfair

If knowing answers to life’s questions is absolutely necessary to you, then forget the journey. You will never make it, for this is a journey of unknowables—of unanswered questions, enigmas, incomprehensibles, and most of all, things unfair. -Madame Jeanne Guyon

It is a wrestle

And ultimate surrender: I am not God 

I do not make and I do not save

I am a needy creature

With longings and bias 

And only the creator knows the end from the beginning, 

and is working it all for good.

To trust in your infinite goodness and wisdom 

To rely on your sovereignty 

To press on in faith 

That is the journey.

To accept the things I cannot change 

And change the things I can

That is the journey. 

To keep hoping and loving 

Because you loved me first 

That is the journey. 

Then the end

Pangs got me reeling

Cries keening like bells pealing

Reckoning with the feeling 

That it’s all ending

Too much spending 

Overdrawing the account of lives and blood 

Breath and wings

And soft dying things

Blood let out 

Without a shout 

///

Why are we waiting for death (exasperating, anxiously horrifying, gripping and stunting, stealing and snuffing [out]). 

Death I don’t want to wait for you

I’d rather meet you, head on

Face to face 

And die 

I’d rather kill you 

Than watch my sons die

My brothers bleed out

My father wheeze away

Oh death, your sting permeates

Oh grave, you’re winning. 

///

“And you will hear of wars and rumors of wars. See that you are not alarmed, for this must take place, but the end is not yet. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and there will be famines and earthquakes in various places. All these are but the beginning of the birth pains.”

Matthew 24:6-8

Noticing is prayer

Noticing is part of prayer.  It’s being attentive to His working in and around us.  Being attentive is part of the conversation of prayer.  Prayer is conversation – a dialogue between Creator and creature. And all of this – noticing, being attentive, being in dialogue with Him throughout the day, with more noticing and conversation – is all part of abiding.  It’s living life WITH God. 
-Claudia W

Materials for a broken heart

Glass, preferable brown and broken into shards. Green is also acceptable, but not clear.

Yarn, dyed black, red, brown or white. 

Roots, tangled and dried.

Red Wine in a Tabasco bottle. 

Clay, dirt, but no sand. Pebbles but no rocks. Stones of white, or gray, but not tan.

Tears in glass jars, as many as you can fill.

Oil of olives ‏من جدتك from last season. 

Sinews, no bone.

Knotted shoelaces.

Jax, metal not plastic.

Aluminum bottle caps.

Ashes. 

Wakefulness and ache, grief borne of desire unmuted and lasting benevolence. 

The war of hope

The "laws of war" 

what a inexplicable phrase

for how is war governed by law?

How is genocide justified?

For the "safety" of the other?

Here, the broken-hearted have hearts that are re-broken daily 

Unmended, unrested, unseen

Outcasts across the world, no where, now where, to go?

Where to hope, now?

Unceasingly until a ceasefire 

Unwaveringly until the dehumanized are reimagined 

No more as the “other;” no longer savages, animals, or barbarians but as fellow humans.

Unstoppable hope, arise, 

on wings, alight, 

above the ground to soar,

to see unwearied, 

to fight for freedom, without fainting

To name the cause of love as the highest call, 

to keep hoping 

in spite of it all. 

How can you

How can you still fly?

You’ve got a log on your eye

You’ve got a root of bitterness hanging on your back, it’s tendril roots dangling from your stomach. 

How can you still fly?

With the heavy weight inside

The body count, the soilders out 

Each name named.

How can you still fly?

Isn’t there a shadow over your mind

It’s darkness, not shade 

It’s obscuring your way.

How can you still fly?

Aren’t you tired now, exhausted

Why don’t you just curse god and die 

Cease your pitiless flight.

Why you still fly?

Because

I was made

For the sky.

The messenger between us

I’m weary of confiding each night to her of my longing 

She glows with patience, radiating understanding, like she has heard such griefs before 

La luna, in your hiddenness you mirror my ache, in your fullness you shine my bright passion 

Send him this message, that I’m still waiting to embrace beneath your halo, together under the same sky.