Power In The Blood

Cheer up!!  Things could be worse!   Oh, yes.

I hate it when people say that.  It is a poor excuse for a comforting word.
First, it isn’t fair.  It shoves aside the fact that I feel like shit.
Second, it is a comparison, and comparisons suck.

I’m not dealing with the theoretical “Things Could Be Worse,”
I’m dealing with “Things Are Pretty Bad As They Stand.”
How long can one float along on the buoy of  “Well, Golly, I’m Alive!” ?

The bottom line is that yes, I’m okay.  I’m still alive.
But before the bottom line, today,
There is all this formidably discouraging fine print.  You know?
The survival surge is past, and now it’s the daily living I’m confronted with,
So just close the door and leave me alone for a while, will you?
I feel like shit and I want to cry my bloody eyes out.

Even when the door is closed, I still have to deal with my soul.
God and my soul.
Can you hear me shouting, God?
I’m past the Jesus, Why me?
And am rapidly dissolving into plain resentment for the exhausting role
I have to play.
Everyone looks at me.
Or they try NOT to look at me.
People talk about how brave I am and what a pity it is and how lucky
(or unlucky)
I am, and really, God I am so tired of it.  It is a big trial,
And I’m not gracious now, I’m just cross, and shouting like a fool.
I’m severed, damn it,
And the impact of the loss was too huge to be felt at first.
Taking it all in is so expensive.  I’m expended.
Can you see me, Lord?  Will You touch me so I know You are there?
I’m too tired to slog on blindly--I want proof.
Water me before I dry up.

There are times
When all the knowledge, hope, love, and faith in the world
Cannot comfort a tear stained heart.

There was a time when Your own heart was comfortless and tear stained,
And those who were with You simply fell asleep in the garden.
I know how You felt, then.
This is a common bond, isn’t it?  This tear stained, comfortless heart. 
This side of the cross is dark, in spite of the light beyond it.

That was a time, though, when You didn’t try to say anything.
Instead, You went in silence carrying that dark cross.
You allowed the cross to expose the power of Your blood,
And You watered my tear stained heart with Your own blood,
And that was enough.
                          

4/91  For Joyce Gregorian Hampshire