Awful week of three senseless public shootings by U.S. citizens at garlic festival in Gilroy CA, Walmart shopping center in El Paso TX, and popular nightclub neighborhood in Dayton OH.
We wonder why domestic terrorists perpetrate violence against unsuspecting victims? Why should innocent people die while enjoying their life? Why is our society spiraling down into a culture of hate and mayhem?
Why is it legal for mothers (whose nature is nurture) to pay doctors (whose profession is healing) to dismember their preborn infants? Why do fathers abandon or abuse their own children after conceiving them? Why do we insist our lives are superior and consider other lives expendable? Why not choose to love and protect one another, starting with our family?
Perhaps there is some connection here, an unnatural progression from selfishness, disrespect, broken relationships and alienation into a macabre culture of death. The shooters are guilty of crimes against humanity but we are all culpable.
We lament with this family suffering awe-ful grief. Beloved infants lost at 26 weeks gestation; twin grandbabies happily anticipated. Expectant mother, more than halfway through pregnancy, heard heartbeats and viewed ultrasounds but no more… no more expectations, no more movement, no more fast swooshing of babies’ hearts beating their distinct rhythms. Only mother’s lonely heart beats now, heavy with slow sorrow.
The relentless spring rains mirror this drowning grief. Tears falling in torrents, flooded emotions. Erosion of the soul. What kind of broken world is this, where little lives can be cut short by the cord that was their lifeline? We may ask “why?” yet not receive an acceptable answer to the anguished questions. We have only our faith in God himself to cling to. Lord, have mercy on your children. As we remember precious twins taken; remember us too, for we are dust.
Join dVerse Poets where Lillian quotes Eccles. 3: 1-8, a time for everything.
“all is vanity,” says the preacher
life’s breath ~ “chasing after wind”
somewhere in the weary world
newborn baby first sucks in air
toddler tosses pebbles into pond
young girl twirls a wedding dance
farmer plants seed in hope of harvest
lovers laugh to embrace ~ weep, to not
developer digs dirt in hope of homes
man grieves loss of beloved wife
old woman stacks stones on beach
dying man expires with final sigh
somewhere in the weary world
“all is vanity,” says the preacher
life’s breath ~ “chasing after wind”
Chèvrefeuille at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai invites us to find a haiku from our archives and re-write it. I decided to post a haiku I submitted to a poetry contest last year…and make it a tanka. Death is part of life in our natural world.
Dear God, why does everyone have to die? One by one, we leave this world cold and those left standing feel abandoned, depressed, hurt, and angry. We know that you understand deep emotion. After all, you lost your only Son…and that son wept at the grave of his friend. We believe you mourn with us. Yes, our final enemy wields a cruel stinger but you took the sting out of death for Uncle Raymond (“Rip”). You called him quietly in his sleep; he passed unexpectedly, without suffering. Thank you, Father, for your mercy, even in his final breath. We grieve but he rejoices, celebrating in your presence today; reunited with his wife, son, and sisters. He fell asleep in mysterious darkness and woke to a glorious morning!
breath of life recalled
death comes as thief in the night
sun will rise again
Raymond (right) died in early morning of brother Willis’ 90th birthday (8-18-18)
A shadorma is a 6 line poem with 3-5-3-3-7-5 syllable counts.
in shadow
motivation comes
suicide
double death
why two lovers hate themselves?
asphyxiation
Many years ago, a teenage co-worker, Barry, and his girlfriend died together in his car running inside a garage. I still sadly wonder…why? Tonight, we discuss suicide at NAMI support group.
by salt poisoning, chemicals, or crunch of infant skull
when will men honor
mothers’ calling?
where have hope’s
children gone?
Linking with dVerse Poets quadrille prompt…sorry this topic is neither pleasant nor Christmasy. Yet our brokenness and sin is why Christ came…as an infant to a poor, young woman in seemingly scandalous circumstances. Would we have aborted Jesus?
a poem in my pocket 
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