Pass: Words I Didn’t Share

Image: by Ladyheart at morguefile.com

Image: by Ladyheart at morguefile.com

//I have let too many words pass of late. The day the bombs in Brussels exploded, then Easter—two days I penned responses, gut-level. Feelings. Unpretty and honest. I fretted over them as a mother does her children when she lets them stay at home for the first time while she shops. So I didn’t publish.

Fear of imperfection? Rejection? Saying what someone else already has? Yes, and no.

Yes, I questioned my words’ worth, but I was reluctant to let anyone into the pain. The visceral paralysis and churning I have when disasters strike. Or a spiritual days’ significance seizes my soul by the throat and undoes me.

So I let the words pass, and I kept them hidden.//

All things move on, words and songs. Moments. Memories. Pain. Joy. They change and we do too.

After I let them go, the feelings subsided, into the recesses of my heart. Then I saw the situation clearer.

Seize the moment to express the beauty within shared pain.Tweet This

It is how He speaks to me, releases me, from needing the world too much.

I couldn’t let the words slip away without telling you.

Here in the light, I offer you some of them, at the risk of being irrelevant.

Coffee cup tremors in my hands.

#PrayForBrussels.

God-petitioning hashtag. Again.

Shaken heart, pit ache

Because I see blood on her shirt ripped open,

In a news photo. Her white belly exposed in the subway.

Oh, Shalom. God, help me, I don’t know where peace

Rises up.

Surely not from an airport smoldering

Or another subway tunnel ringing

Chaos. Death.

What strange times in which we read

All the world’s aching, groaning,

Longing for a day without death.

We feel the want for resurrection singing to us from

Under rubble

We cannot touch.

Only feeble lives in pieces,

Belgium’s banner illuminating the Eiffel’s scaffolding,

To remember.

I will settle the shaking. I will steer the pen. I will not look away.

Weep with those who weep.

Stand with those who suffer.

Seek peace in the hand-off of hope

As officials ask what went wrong?

When will it stop?

The only way through is pouring prayer like blood

Over sorrow

And clinging to pure white

Crimson tulip, sun-kissed daffodils will bloom under black in my garden tonight.

Carnage will not carry us away today.

Shalom stills the shaking.

Today’s post is part of Five Minute Friday, a community of creative writers scribbling madly on a one-word prompt for 5 minutes. Our word was PASS. (// indicates the timer’s start and stop.)

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April 28, 2016