Thirteen years later...

My friend, the poet/musician/author Pam, turned me on to this poem today -
and this Pastor, too - another musical mystic from Massachusetts - and the words spoke to my soul. They evoked my own grief and sorrow concerning this day. They touched on the grief I hold in my heart for the many innocents who have been killed because of my country's fear and anger. And they also connected me to a few dear sisters and brothers around the world who are hurting deeper than words can ever articulate. In so many, many ways I was blessed by this poem. Maybe you will be, too...

You've been wronged:
hurt, betrayed, accused,
robbed of something, someone.
The wound still bleeds,
smoke still rises in twin columns.
You can pretend, 
and your ruse will imprison you.
You can rage, 
and your rage will enslave you.
You can believe your deserving,
and your shame will bury you.

Or you can walk to the sea,
the sea at the end of the world,
the dark, chaotic waters of Creation,
the Red Sea bounding your Egypt,
the ocean of forgiveness.
A bitter Pharaoh will follow you,
but don't turn back.
You will walk into the pain, up to your ankles,
the grief, up to your waist,
the powerlessness, up to your chest
before the waters part

and you walk free.

Steve Garnaas-Homes

Sculpture: Meredith Bergmann


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