I Am Said I (Huruma)

We do not grieve Like those who have No hope But we mourn All the same And weep like Jesus For death is loss To those who remain Our letting go No casual achievement  We labour and ache For contact A physical connection I pick up the scarf I bought for her In Paris Feel the smoothness  Of her skin  The soft scent Of her perfume And carry it with me A year or two Until the fragrance  Fades away No longer Held

It fell in the winter Wind That blew the year She went away I left it there To speak Its silence To the clay Waiting for some Summer miracle Blossoms On a fallen tree Hope For the one Who stumbles Tumbling From storm To stillness My soul Has come To rest Out of the raging New life bearing

November 15, 2015 St.Teresa Of Avila In Ecstasy Only for God and good people there have been many days in my life when I couldn't see how I would make it from morning through to day's end. And only for God alone therehave been long nights that I might not have survived. It strikes me now that those nights were possibly the most sacred because of their aloneness and togetherness - God and I alone, God and I together in a way that is not possible at any other time. There are still such days and nights but not as many. Not for such prolonged, drawn-out periods. I'm thinking these thoughts because yesterday I celebrated the funeral Mass of a man who took his own life. Married with three children, the youngest of whom is one year old today. And a beautiful wife whom he started dating when they were about 14 years old. They were inseparable. I have often wanted my life to end. Seriously. But I never thought of taking it myself because I have a solid conviction that all...