I stand before you
my pieces put together in shapes
that do not cut when you get close
edges turned onto myself

press your lights against my chest
the coloured pieces of my hurt
shine in a mosaic
"you are so fragile, love"
"let me take care of you"

My eyes are closed
and I let myself be swallowed
into your words
they are cold but embracing
possessive and enveloping

Cradled and helpless
my pieces shift for the mold you've made
you tell me my pain is beautiful
and I let you eat my pieces up
until there is no more of me

and there I am, an empty shell
looking to be filled
seeking for the hands
and hoping they give me back

I don't know who I am without you.

Heal the world with your magical touch O Savior,
Your supreme creation has become tired and ill.
For the sake of the old and the new
You come down,we have become weak.

We realised our wrongdoings as we have darkened your blue sky..
We choked your mighty oceans with plastics.
We filled your pure air with toxic fumes
We made your green world barren
Now we deserve to be rebuked

We are your transgressor

Our mistakes are unpardonable
Our sins are grave

But O Lord!
We need your forgiveness for those who have done good,
Sheltered the needy and saved the sick and offered food.
We need you for those who are born today
We need you for the mankind to stay.

Come down O Krishna in any form as we are in deep pain,
Come down ... O bountiful we need you again!!

Bina Mukherjee

Eyes as light as the green leaves tinged by sunlight--
Hair as gentle as the vines that twine along the garden wall--
Though you are older than me,
Your laugh is as young as a little boy's

When I lived in that city made of dreams
I never dreamed I'd meet someone like you
And, while you are so unexpected,
so new and unanticipated,
Why do you now remind me of that place
Which I know like the back of my hand?

Why is it that, as I struggle to find the words to describe you
and how you represent many a thing that's new
in this life of mine,

Why is it that I go back to that place I've left?
Why do I describe you in terms of the memories
My heart aches so bad to return to?

You and I have talked about this --
wishing to go back to those times well-cherished...
I know I haven't fully healed yet.
And I know you haven't, too.

For someone who's been through a war
Battered and worn by grief,
Why does your heart still seem tender and soft?

Why do you care so much for others
When so much has been taken away from you?

God only knows.

God only knows why I met you.
God only knows when I'll tell you about
What makes my heart whole
And what keeps me at peace,
Even if I can't explain everything that's happened to me
Even when it hurts and I feel like no one else understands me

Because it's Peace that will mend your heart
--Nothing missing; nothing broken--
You were made to be beautiful for a reason.
Because the Creator, the Artist who made you makes
Everything beautiful in His time,
Everything beautiful in its season.

And though the world sends you its lies,
Know that you are His work of art.
His purpose for you is to have hope and a future,
For He has set eternity in your heart.

There can be a day
When all your tears will be wiped away
By the hands that made you,
By the hands that saved you.

Though much has been taken away from you,
I believe there will come a day, my brother,
When you will meet that King, that good and perfect Father who will show you your true worth.
You are worthy not because of anything you do.
You are worthy because of what He did for you.
You are worthy because of His love for you.
And if you let Him, He will heal you.
He will heal all your wounds with gold.

Glinting in the sunlight--
Nothing missing;
Nothing broken.

you love me because you want to save me
but im not salvagable...
sometimes garbage is just garbage
and you should let it rot

Why do we search high and low,
Only to find nothing?
Why do we travel far and wide
Only to get lost?
Why do we gift and give
Only to be used and stolen from?
Why do we give our bodies willingly
Only to feel shame right after?
Why do we lie to avoid getting in trouble
Only to be punsished worse?
Why do we long for something new
Only to miss that which was old?
Why do we clean ourselves off
Only to get ***** again?
Why do we do anything
Only to know its all for naught?

Let me ask you this then.

Why does a God search high and low
For someone who isn't looking for Him?
Why does a God travel far and wide
To find someone who is lost
Why does a God gift and give
To those who only ask and take?
Why does a God uncover the faces
Of those who feel the most shame?
Why does a God sit with those who lie
Knowing full well they are lying to His face?
Why does a God grow jealous
When we pursue something new?
Why does a God sacrifice His son
To wash us clean of our sin?

Why?
After all we do...
Why?
Love is the reason why.

Chest heaving, eyes weeping,
The tomb blurs before my eyes.
How is everyone else still sleeping
When my Savior doesn’t arise?

Oh, how the doubt roars within me,
His words now seem to me as His rotting flesh,
“I will rise on day three,”
But his body is now stolen, unless…

Dirt clenching onto my dress,
I fling the tears from my eyes,
Trying to decide if… Yes!
There are people by his graveside.

Angels they must be, all in white,
And before I can confirm their existence, they speak:
“Woman, why are you weeping at this sight?”
My anger flares as I try to control my speech.

“Because my Lord has been taken away,
And I don’t know where his body is.”
I attempt to keep my temper at bay,
Turning away to abate my boiling fears.

Then I see the gardener, and a flash of brilliance
Or desperation rises in me, which one I don’t know,
But as I open my mouth to ask about my Lord’s disappearance,
He speaks: “Why are you weeping woman, why such sorrow?”

Again the same question, yet I cannot form
An adequate response; how can one describe
The loss of Him who can calm the storm,
But now has left my world in turmoil at his sacrifice?

My anger reaches the heavens now,
And in irritation I retort, “If you have taken Him away,
Tell me where He is, and I will take him from thou.”
Chest heaving, eyes weeping, I glance away.

But then I hear my name, soft and sweet but firm,
Two syllables, a clear “Mary!”
And I turn
And my unbridled joy at seeing him turns into “Rabboni!”

I ponder for a second what it’s like to feel
Sadness, for in that split second, it’s gone,
It’s been replaced by rejoicing and zeal,
And I resist the urge to leap with the dawn.

How could I have ever doubted?
Of course His words are true,
It’s a reality that must be shouted,
Yet all I can do is stare at him now that he’s in my view.

“Do not cling to me,” he says earnestly
“For I still must ascend to my Father,
And please tell our friends this, for certainly
I ascend to My God and your God, My Father and your Father.”

It was good he said this, for I had forgotten
In my excitement to see my Savior; I’m sure
His disciples must have wondered whether their Lord had rotted:
“I’m leaving right now, my Savior!”

Sandals rubbing into callouses, lungs heaving,
I ran back to town, through the streets that
Once knew me in despair, grieving,
Hardly stopping, for I had no time to chat.

My Savior has risen, he is alive and well,
He has saved us lost sheep who have gone astray,
And although He no longer on Earth will dwell,
He will never allow us to fully decay.

I’m sure when you die he will call your name too,
With a voice soft and sweet but firm and so true,
And you will go be with Him and He’ll make you brand-new,
And we’ll all live forever from our own Easter morning, too.

let’s live our lives
barefoot

let’s live our lives like
small children,
children so precious that their simple presence
evokes tears in the eyes of the most
stoic father,
so precious that the image of them
snoring softly in their Thomas the Tank Engine bed
causes the stressed mother to smile a mile,
so precious that when one of them
pushes back the blonde, wispy hair of the other
the photographer can’t help but laughing as she
captures the moment

let’s live our lives like
children who are not afraid of nails and rocks
in the backyard, but who are
obsessed with finding that elusive
white grasshopper that their uncle
promised was there,
like children who endure countless foot baths every day
in the heat of summer but the pads still blister
and their feet still turn brown
but they don’t care,
like children who have just smelled a flower
for the first time, who have experienced the
sharp pain of a first bee sting,
like children who are in awe as a deer
peeks quizzically at them from above the bush,
tail twitching, eyes twinkling

let’s live our lives like
children who make up odd games that
they remember years later, a complicated one that involves
Patty Cake, jump rope, tag, and somehow
hop scotch and charades as well,
like children who wander away from their house
for many hours, exploring like Columbus,
drawing detailed maps of their small neighborhood,
beautiful crayon stick figures dotting the horizon,
like children who capture and dote on an assortment of
toads, grasshoppers, frogs, moths, and butterflies,
like a child who thinks the worst sin is to
**** an animal that the Lord has made

let’s live our lives like children, with a
loving and unwavering faith in the Savior,
with eyes unaltered by the
whips and thorns of life,
with minds unchanged by the
Judas Iscariot’s of this Earth

let’s live our lives like
small children

let’s live our lives
barefoot