death shroud

i often think of mary. of the women at the feet of Jesus, and i am so glad it was not me. i couldn't have handled it with half the grace, the faith, the tenacity of those present. i know i would have done it all wrong.

but my glimmer of Jesus on the cross is watching my dear friend, my beloved companions struggle through their own dark nights. from my experience alone, i know the pain of it, the agony, the isolation. and it makes my heart tremble. i can't even imagine what it would have been to be a friend of Jesus and watch Him go down to death. it breaks my heart.

i cannot keep any of my friends from pain, and that, though a lesser pain perhaps, is pain enough. and i with fumbling words labor to convey my great love and admiration for them. hoping they know i am here. and once a friend of mine, always a welcome awaits your return regardless of the number of days, months or years between greeting.

i have had to learn to let go. for i have realized the greatest gift we give to others is freedom to be who they are. to come and go as the waves of the ocean lick upon the shore, sometimes high, sometimes low, ever faithful. we are all dust. moments in time. frailty embodied. one day i may be gone, tomorrow perhaps. but i do not leave this place with words unsaid, things undone. i leave knowing full well, those who know me, know i love them. and love them dearly as my own soul.

imagine mary for a moment if you will. then read this.



go down to death
my friend
my Saviour

pour out
precious
nard

the scent
heavy
in the air

go down to death
my love
my Lord

i will trail behind
watching weeping
powerless

to keep you
from it

go down to death
beaten bruised

when at last
your breast
is still

drape white linen
over the face
i love

now a grim
shadow
of strength

a crumbled
king
prostrate

still unmoving
my hope
gone

go down to death
my love
my Lord

i will not
keep you
from it