Thursday, February 05, 2009

No poem just paradox What we don't know

In addition to poetry, I enjoy paradox. We find the truth in paradox.
I collect paradoxes.
One important paradox:
Learn what you don't know.

The problem and paradox is; we don't know what we don't know. When we learn what we don't know, we think we know what we don't know, but still don't know what we don't know. So us finite mortals have been given an infinite task. To learn what we don't know.

This should keep us humble. Always open to learning what we don't know.

Wednesday, February 04, 2009


My son recently went to a funeral for a 27 year old. He had commited suicide. It is hard to cope with. Painful. Difficult to understand. Here is a poem written earler on the subject. Still painful.


It’s not your fault,
you know.
You couldn’t comprehend the pain,
of guilt & shame,
& dark depression,
force driving her to end too short life.

Pain she couldn’t share,
made life unbearable.
Pain unconfessed,
festered inside.
She couldn’t confess,
to be healed.

She saw no way out,
guilt & shame & pain held her tight.
Blackness & depression,
Churchill’s black dog,
closed around.
Suicide seemed only way out.

Storms of Life too strong to endure.
Like Peter with waves too tall,
she started to sink.
Like Peter she lost sight of Me,
but she didn’t/couldn’t reach out,
In waves too tall.

They claim suicide’s unforgivable sin.
So what.
There’s nothing I can’t forgive.
Its wrong to try to control your life,
by choice of when you die,
rather than God’s will.

It’s no worse,
than any other sin,
where you seek control.
You all wander off,
going your own,
disobedient way.

Judas after his betrayal,
in dark guilt and grief,
Death seemed only choice,
alone in his bleak fatal field.
Death only choice,
to end dark sharp pain.

Peter the lucky one,
with brother,
who walked with him,
in time of sorrow.
Held him close and showed him love,
helped him go on.

Walk with those in their dark hour,
when pain seems oh so dark.
You cannot stop the awful pain,
but you can be a light.
Light of hope.
Light of joy & peace.

Like Andrew stay so close to them.
Let them know My love.
Love that reaches out to them.
Love that offers peace.
Hope in fiery furnace.
Joy in time of grief.

Be My hands and feet.
Hands to hold them close.
Feet to walk beside them,
in their valley of despair,
when dark shadows loom.
Threaten to overtake.

Minister to those,
trapped in guilt and shame.
Show them My love,
Joy & forgiveness.
Offer them healing.
Offer them Me.

© Presbypoet, January 25, 2002