Headstones (a poem)

I wrote this today while at Jordan’s grave. Sometimes I go there to think, to cry, and to remember why it’s so important for me never to forget:

alpha_omega

Sometimes, I still think I hear your voice and it causes me to tremble.

Teeth clenched, eyes set, searching the horizon for your familiar frame and I am overtaken with grief, as I see nothing but clouds upon clouds upon clouds,

Raised like banners in reverence of the earth that lay six feet deep like your discarded shell lay six feet deep in the earth.

And on days like today, I sit by your headstone with eyes full of tears,

Recounting all our memories one by one by one like Jesus counts our tears each day at the setting of the sun.

All I see are tombstones and its difficult to keep the faith in spite of such opposition, but CHRIST, I’m not in a position to doubt such a grace that overwhelms our graves more powerfully than this grave overwhelms me.

And Jordan, I cannot say enough to tell the world enough about our beautiful friendship and the type of beautiful friend that you were.

Headstones surround me here, surrounded by the dead and the air is as thick as the silence nestled in between the noise out there and the war inside of my head.

Jesus, I know that you care.

I know you understand the place of dark desperation and you meet me there.

And as I sit in relative silence, that I would be moved to tears is my passionate plea.

Because for so long I refused to face the pain inside of me.

Because for so long I believed that the tears I spilt were all in vain. For months upon months upon months upon months I labelled them weakness in response to unchanging grief, enamoured with unchanging suffering and enormous blame.

But my tears were not forgotten,

Not shed without purpose.

As I believe the sun rises to display the glory of God and sets to keep us in awe, so I believe that the love of God sustains us while we sit crumpled in a ball amidst a world riddled with complexities, and keeps us there, silent and in awe.

Healer, can you heal me?

Breathe. Rewrite. And set me free.

ΑΩ

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Author: panicpreacherpanic

I am not good.

2 thoughts on “Headstones (a poem)”

  1. WOW…Stephen! This is wonderful! And powerful! Thank you for remembering our son…thank you for being his brother! Thank you for keeping him alive in your heart as we do in ours!

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