Sunday, November 22, 2015

Post Paris Massacre

I can’t scrub the sadness out of my heart.  
No matter where I turn, there is talk of violence and hate.
Where can I place my pain, so that it is healed by a tender touch?  
Who will listen to the disquiet within me and reassure me with love?.
Who will take my tears and turn them into a potent prayer?


I can’t scrub the sadness out of my heart.
No matter what I do, the melancholy attaches to my muscles.
Where can I place my beliefs, so that it draws me to action?
Who will solve the problem of evil, while my body emotes fear?
Who will offer up a psalm and turn my mourning into hope?


I can’t scrub the sadness out of my heart.
So I will leave it there
Indefinitely
And watch it grow with sorrow and compassion.