At noon on this national day of mourning and remembrance, we again held a service at the church.We shared and sang and grieved together. Here are some of the readings I offered. Peace to us all, Mark (minister@ucdsm.org) “The Journey” (excerpt) by Lillian Smith “Without words, it comes. And suddenly, sharply, one is aware of being separated from every person on one’s earth and every object, and from the beginning of things and from the future and even a little, from one’s self. A moment before one was happily playing; the world was round and friendly. Now at one’s feet there are chasms that had been invisible until this moment. And one knows, and never remembers how it was learned, that there will always be chasms, and across chasms will always be those one loves.” “The Wind, One Brilliant Day” by Antonio Machado The wind, one brilliant day, called To my soul with an odor of jasmine. “In return for the odor of jasmine, I’d like all the odor of your roses.” “I have no roses; all the flowers in my garden are dead.” “Well then, I’ll take the withered petals and the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain.” The wind left. And I wept. And I said to myself: “What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?” “Testimony” by Jane Flanders This is how death Came to the old tree: In a cold bolt, a single Thrust from a cloud, In tearing away of bark And limbs, a piercing Of much that was necessary. We had no choice then But to cut it down—a pine Of great height, that knew much About weather and small life. It had been here longer than any of us. And now There is a hole in the sky. “All Souls” by May Sarton Did someone say that there would be an end, And end, Oh, an end, to love and mourning? The cold bleak voices of the early morning When all the birds are dumb and in dark November— Remember and forget, forget, remember. After the false night, warm true voices, wake! Voice of the dead that touches the cold living, Through the pale sunlight once more gravely speak. Tell me again, while the last leaves are falling: “Dear child, what has been once so interwoven Cannot be raveled, nor the gift ungiven.” Now the dead move through all of us still glowing, Mother and child, lover and lover mated, Are wound and bound together and enflowing. What has been plaited cannot be unplaited— Only the strands grow richer with each loss And memory makes kings and queens of us. Dark into light, light into darkness, spin. When all the birds have flown to some real haven, We who find shelter in the warmth within, Listen, and feel new-cherished, new forgiven, As the lost human voices speak through us and blend Our complex love, our mourning without end. “Grief” by Gaius Valerius Catullus Grief reached across the world to get me, Sadness carries me across seas and countries To your grave, my brother, To offer the only gift I still can give you— Words you will not hear. Fortune has taken you from me. You. No reason, nothing fair. I didn’t deserve losing you. Now, in the silence since, As is the ancient custom of our people, I say the mourner’s prayer, Do the final kindness. Accept and understand it, brother. My head aches from crying. Forever, goodbye. “Prayer
for America and the World” “Do
not allow your hatred to turn you away from
justice.”
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