Do we know love in part by experiencing the sorrow created when our hearts are broken?  Or do we understand sorrow better because we have been touched by love?  Maybe we can come at it from either end, but surely the way to keep growing in love is to love, leaving our hearts open to be hurt, wounded and disappointed, but supple enough to risk again, to hope.

My writing friend, Denice Bezoplenko sent me her ‘love poem’ this week, which wades through grief and ends reaching, voicing for me some of my own confusion these days.  But I hear resurrection here too, do you?

A Burial

When power spit on the Samaritan,
leaving people ditched in winter
(in the name of God!)

something died. I buried it.

When the bully rose, gilded in contempt,
his people pew-ed and cheering, red,
the stage was played, mega-ed, slicked.
God slipped underground with me.

We move along the roots now, darkly
tender, feel our way along the
fibrous filaments, where death
meets life’s full force,
in mounting mystery.

© 2017 – Denice Bezoplenko

Picture Credit – Pixabay.com