Grief a Broken Heart.

The darkness grew in my mind, as

I watched the fragile light recede, in

my distress I saw it swallowing,

me whole.


The grief I felt washed through, as

I remembered the good things, and

there, in a moment, overwhelmed 

I wept.


 You were there and    yet I could 

not reach you. I felt abandoned, 

and there was no comfort in the

time past.


People ebbed and flowed around, I tried

to hold onto words, a touch, and

the weary faces of compassion

and love.


Someone left a card. Words blurred, as

I tried to read and the loneliness, broke

on me and I sat in the darkness, with

no hope.


It wasn’t a word, or card or prayers

but a friend who kept coming, they

sat, stayed with me, listening, if

I talked.


It was not what they said or did, but

that silent witness that I was worth

their time, patience, their kindness

and love.


We walked in the park, or by the sea,

slowly I saw that I was valued, not

while I was an asset but while I was

a drag.


They stayed through the anger, the

frost and the rain, the dark clouds,

the storms, anxiety, even

my hate.


I asked them why, they waited for me

to ask and spoke of a God, who stays

with us when we are foul, and also

when good.

I tried it for myself, I stormed at God,

I screamed at that face on a cross.

They’re forgiven? My punishment

lives on.


I cried, I wept, I swore and I cursed,

I yelled ’til I was sore and worn out

and still God was there, never went,

nor left.


How could a God above everything,

consider me to be worthy, like that?

And love me when I loathed them

so much?


I sat in the dark and a faint light, as

small as pin was there, a little point

of hope and over the years God and

the friend –


They never gave up, never closed a

door. I scoured my home, lit every 

lamp. Then I sat and asked for help

to forgive.

It came so slowly that I hardly dared

to hope. It came so hard that it was

like being in a prison and try bending

the bars.

Time passed and the bent iron bars, 

breaking, the dim light grew around, so

I tentatively tried out living again, 

with God.

I took toddling steps, grew stronger, 

valued myself, and still the blackness

threatens but now I know that I’m not


I learned that I cannot know everything,

that I am not at fault and able to now

stand with others, through their all, and be

their friend.

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margins are a great place sometimes because it is where change happens fastest but it is also a horrible place when we are stuck in them and grace is the moment when we can see that someone cares.

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