This is my first attempt at writing a poem. It may be absolutely terrible, but I’m putting it out there anyway. Let me know what you think (and be honest––I can take it)!
We recoil in fear, pain.
Loss and grief threaten to pull us under as clouds, thick and impenetrable, envelope our being.
Time, they say. Time is what you need.
Time will heal.
Time heals all wounds.
But time passes, and though pain becomes dull, it remains.
In the depths it remains, hidden––poison to the soul.
Anger turns bitter.
Bitterness rages within, undetected by the eye but known.
We cry out, desperately seeking solace––something to ease our hurt, but find nothing.
Nothing eases the broken.
The bed left empty.
The voice forever silenced.
Laughter nevermore to be heard.
And we wonder, can hearts broken mend?
Still, time has not done its duty.
Greater darkness descends, as hope escapes.
Desperation calls out to a God it does not know.
A God that will not answer or will not care, we fear.
And we grapple with truth.
Wrestle with the realities of life and death––beauty and loss––seeking truth from our Maker.
Darkness begins to recede.
Slowly, ever so slowly, we begin to see light.
A faint glimmer in the distance––at first––shining, beckoning, “come.” Come to Me.
And in desperation, we go.
We fall into loving arms and weep, releasing all within.
Plucked from the fire, grace covers.
Life finds beauty in the ugly, the pain, as God works in all things.
And truth reveals time’s failure.
Time was never meant heal.
For healing comes from only One.
[God] has made everything beautiful in its time. – Ecclesiastes 3:11