Monday, June 6, 2011

The weight of remembering-

The past comes to those who have chosen
to take up the burden.
It becomes a tangible thing
It’s weight unable to bear it’s self.
And it’s loss,
Though often unrecognized,
No less a wound born by the living.

It comes at times a comfort.
It asks of us to enter,
To remain and to be steadfast.

When we are equal to it’s measure-
There is a joyous stirring in the graves
Like a child turning in the womb
Those unseen, gone from us, and unborn…
Those whom we are looking toward,
Those to whom we belong;
Are freed from their eternal bonds
And with joy they wait…
Or in peace they rest.

Offten it comes a burden-
when unequal to it’s measure
We are haunted by the ghosts
Of those who bore our same burden,
Or burdens of greater weight;
With greater patience,
Or with greater humility,   
Or both.

But the dead make no judgment.
What rest could we have, with contempt in our hearts?
And those who will come after us
Bear no ill regard for our failures.
Who would sow seeds in hope that they might fail?
Who would not hope
That after a time in darkness,
What they had planted
Would not be made
One day
see the light?

Surely no ghost haunts the alleys,
Nor the doorstep, nor forests, nor the night.
No phantom stalks the dawn,
Or our rest.
Only the fear that we be unworthy
Of those whom we have loved....  
Can keep us from our joyous sleep.

1 comment:

teri said...

such poetic prose
and deep thoughts!

Have you ever read or heard of my man, John O'Donahue from Ireland?

Yes, tis a blessing for you to see & hear.

May the nourishment of the earth be YOURS*
Teri Byrne