Jun 2014
(a lamentation for Maria)
~
call me Mara,
no more Maria;
nothing but a hole
where ‘i’ once was,
for life has dealt my heart
a raw and bitter hand.
do not come too close;
weep with me,
but from a distance...
my losses could rub off
for this may be endemic;
a cause any other,
too hard to understand.
i do not know how i will cope,
how i can bear this burden.
just love me not,
too closely, please,
for the thought
of one more loss
is more than i
could bear to see.
my sons were two
and for any more
i would have never asked;
yet they have left
and now my joy,
my future dreams,
my happy hopes,
wind in my sails
has all but now
been dashed.
love...
i thought i knew it,
but now it seems
that all i love
is stripped away from me.
weep with me,
but not too distant...
my losses won’t rub off
this contagious only seems.
just love me not,
too closely, please,
for the thought
of one more loss
is more than i
could bear to see.
call me Mara,
call me bitter,
share my sorrow,
hear my never-ending sobs.
if any hope remains
i pray you hold it close,
hang tightly to your dreams;
my hope is gone,
replaced by sour herbs,
libations poured
have all been changed,
a tinge of myrrh it now contains;
reduced to tears
my song is lost,
except this sad refrain.
weep with me,
hold me tightly...
my heartache won’t rub off
i cannot bear to cry alone.
just love me not,
too closely, please,
for the thought
of one more loss
is more than i
could bear to see.
~
call me Mara,
no more Maria;
nothing but a hole
where ‘i’ once was,
for life has dealt my heart
a raw and bitter hand.
do not come too close;
weep with me,
but from a distance...
my losses could rub off
for this may be endemic;
a cause any other,
too hard to understand.
i do not know how i will cope,
how i can bear this burden.
just love me not,
too closely, please,
for the thought
of one more loss
is more than i
could bear to see.
my sons were two
and for any more
i would have never asked;
yet they have left
and now my joy,
my future dreams,
my happy hopes,
wind in my sails
has all but now
been dashed.
love...
i thought i knew it,
but now it seems
that all i love
is stripped away from me.
weep with me,
but not too distant...
my losses won’t rub off
this contagious only seems.
just love me not,
too closely, please,
for the thought
of one more loss
is more than i
could bear to see.
call me Mara,
call me bitter,
share my sorrow,
hear my never-ending sobs.
if any hope remains
i pray you hold it close,
hang tightly to your dreams;
my hope is gone,
replaced by sour herbs,
libations poured
have all been changed,
a tinge of myrrh it now contains;
reduced to tears
my song is lost,
except this sad refrain.
weep with me,
hold me tightly...
my heartache won’t rub off
i cannot bear to cry alone.
just love me not,
too closely, please,
for the thought
of one more loss
is more than i
could bear to see.
post script.
some events shake us to the core, even though they may not be our own.
Ruth 1:20 “Don’t call me Naomi,” she told them. “Call me Mara, because the Almighty has made my life very bitter. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mara_(name)
i am grateful to know the rest of Naomi’s story; to know her bitter drink was ultimately mingled with some sweetness; to know that beyond her own lifetime she became a part of the silver thread that led to a nation’s redemption... but i cannot accept, that even for a moment of her remaining life, the hole left by her many losses was ever filled completely. some wounds even time can never really heal; these we only learn to cope with, soothing the pain, finding ways to medicate the suffering they cause.
myrrh. http://www.itmonline.org/arts/myrrh.htm
some events shake us to the core, even though they may not be our own.
Ruth 1:20 “Don’t call me Naomi,” she told them. “Call me Mara, because the Almighty has made my life very bitter. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mara_(name)
i am grateful to know the rest of Naomi’s story; to know her bitter drink was ultimately mingled with some sweetness; to know that beyond her own lifetime she became a part of the silver thread that led to a nation’s redemption... but i cannot accept, that even for a moment of her remaining life, the hole left by her many losses was ever filled completely. some wounds even time can never really heal; these we only learn to cope with, soothing the pain, finding ways to medicate the suffering they cause.
myrrh. http://www.itmonline.org/arts/myrrh.htm
