Swords
Psalm 119:28 – "My soul is weary with sorrow; strengthen me according to your word." King David in the Bible.
Swords
Grief is the silent, ripping sword,
the razor slashing inward;
the days, the weeks, the years go by
and time is an enigma.
Some say normal life returns
but they have never lived this;
there is no normal after death,
there never is returning.
The space remains, tormenting void -
once filled, your vibrant face within it.
Upon my heart your image burns,
much like the sacred veil,
the essence of a treasured soul
who outgrew life as we still know it
and moved beyond this place,
beyond this world, beyond time’s face,
by lifted hands made sightless.
But, I believe, someday,
we will know reunion;
the banquet seats will all be filled,
the smiles all genuine and real,
banished the deceptive costumes.
Healed, our hearts will be rejoined,
more alive than ever here,
where all the swords are beaten smooth,
shining troubadours of joy,
and all the tears forgotten.
February 22, 2022
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