Tuesday, June 14, 2016

Far too fragile for this moment

His face is contorted in rage
And I can hear myself yell
He’s throwing things and screaming
My heart just fell
A day can turn in a moment
A son can hate on a dime
I put him in his room to simmer
Before he breaks me, I’m
Far too fragile for this moment

How loud is too loud to walk?
How loud is too loud to cry?
I’ll never fit within your bounds
Is there any reason to try?
My feet are dirty
As they pound the floor
My hands are shaking
As I slam the door

Fifty dead including the killer
Fifty dead from hate and fear
Somewhere mothers are screaming
Some are shocked at once to hear
Your son was murdered
Your son was queer
A day can turn in a moment
A son can hate on a dime
Fifty mothers are heaving,
Far too fragile for this moment

How loud is too loud to walk?
How loud is too loud to cry?
They never fit within your bounds
But they’d found a place to try
Their feet were dancing
Salsa beats upon the floor
Their hands were embracing
As he came in through the door

My son started fresh this morning
At six we have years to thwart
The anger and the horror
Disjointed moments of rage to sort
If I can get it together, be better
Stop being the man I hate
If in the moments of angry panic
Love can have a greater weight
Far too fragile for this moment

How loud is too loud to walk?
How loud is too loud to cry?
I don’t fit within my bounds
And often don’t have the will to try
My heart was pounding
As he screamed in my face
My arms were aching
As I brought him in for embrace

If your god doesn’t love us all
Then your god is far too small
If my child is filled with anger
He’s my mirror to see my shame
I’m a makeup of my parents
And he’s me all the same
One is the mother of a killer
And another the mother of the dead
And I the mother of a beginning
My stomach filled with dread
Can I be greater than the pulsing fear and pain
Can I choose to love in when rage is in my brain?
Far too fragile for this moment

How loud is too loud to walk?
How loud is too loud to cry?
Our bounds of what fits are too small
Love everyone, the order is tall
Grace and peace are bigger by far
Than the moment of fear filled dread
I have to believe we can all love enough
To unwind the spiral of hate in our head

People are made in moments
Children become who we are
How much love is enough to counter
The moments of losing our heads
Can we stitch together broken hearts
With peace and grace as our threads
Together can we change ourselves
Enough to give them a fighting chance
At a world without fear of being shot
While they hold hands and dance?
Far too fragile for this moment


Wednesday, December 2, 2015

Practice

Pablo Casals, one of the world’s greatest cellists was asked at 93 why he was still practicing as hard as ever. He said, “Because, I think I’m making progress.”


Some days feel like they’re falling apart between your fingers like gluten free bread.


Some days it’s hard to sort out if the pain you are feeling is from the grief bubbling back up a year later or the fresh accusations from people you love. And then your computer crashes. And you fail to prepare for an exam. And you realize that you haven’t done laundry every day and now there are 18 loads waiting for you. And you react to everything in the most juvenile way and all the things you thought you had been learning just fly right out the window. You are nine and mad and sad and want to punch everyone all at once. And your stupid phone is broken.

Friday, November 27, 2015

Grace is for everyone

I saw this sign along a road in front of a church and smiled. Grace IS for everyone.
Yep. Even me.
I'm a mess of imperfection, faulty actions, judgment of others and unruly behavior. I drink too much. I am present too little.
And yet, I too get grace.
And so do you.
Time with family around the holidays can be fraught with complicated feelings. Years of hurt swept under the rug can trip us up. Memories of loved ones who have passed can cloud our decision making. Silly comments or ill-timed jokes can send us spinning...especially when we're the ones making them.

Friday, October 2, 2015

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