You used to make me cookies
And drop them at my door
But now when you bake cookies
I don’t get them anymore.
Tag: estrangement
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Photo by Annie Spratt Part of the legacy you leave
Is the astounding fact
That you walked me up a mountain
And then pushed me from the cliff.
You struck just when I thought
I was finally safe with you
Past the worst of the climb
And on my way downhill.
I didn’t know you had a faster route
A free fall into the unknown
Because you could no longer
Stand my presence.
It makes me wonder why
You walked up the mountain at all
Why not let me climb alone
In hopes that I would make a jump?
I had thought the whole the climb
You might be merely apathetic
And it wounds me now to think
I was wrong. You’re just cruel.
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Photo by Hava Yilmaz I have been displaced by
A collusion of forces which work for ill
Arrogance, apathy, cowardice
An unholy union of urges that destroy
Faith, hope and love
Forced into a wilderness
On a sojourn not of my choosing
Because hypocrisy runs strong among
Men who think their strength
Lies in their position over others
Instead of in the gentle hand of mercy
Offered by a God who looks on in wonder
Asking
“Would your father be proud of you right now?”
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Photo by Frank Albrecht There’s poison in the well
Put there by a trusted friend
One I’ll never trust again
Who proclaimed to love me, yet
Roped in those around us
To belittle and betray,
Convinced to participate in the fantasy
That anger and confusion
Collude to entangle
The otherwise level-headed.
And now there’s poison in the well
A place once vibrant and green
Turned to brackish death
That not only harms me
But all who sip from its waters.
To what end, this madness?
For the sin of refusing
To look another in the eye and say
“We both are human.”
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Photo courtesy of WordPress Free Library I don’t take my kids to church
It’s not a place I want to be
For ministers protect themselves
And not once protected me.I don’t take my kids to church
It’s filled with gossip and with lies
And loose-lipped friends who mean well
But end up being spies.I don’t take my kids to church
I’d rather teach them to be good
To love mercy, peace and justice
As God tells us that we should.I don’t take my kids to church
For they were taught by watching, stunned,
That when you dare defend yourself
You are punished and are shunned.I’d rather that my kids find God
In grass and dirt and tree
Than in pew and hymn and pulpit
And be wounded, just like me. -
Photo by Annie Spratt How does one remain soft when
Out of necessity
She has had to yell into the face
Of a fellow pilgrim on the journey
“To hell with you”
While they both continue to walk
Towards the same Heaven?
How does she not let the heart-hardening of Pharaoh
Become her bread and butter
Drinking the gall of that bitter elixir
Because it was the only sustenance left out for her
As she made her way towards God?
And how does she walk beside the ones
Who chose violence or ignorance or apathy
When she was crying out for a friend
To pull her from the pit?
What can she even say to them,
Those who left her behind and thought it was
The right choice
Except
“To hell with you too”
As she treads slowly up the hill
Looking, ever looking
For redemption
And the path to become soft again.
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Photo by Glen Carrie Why would I want to give you anything
After you misunderstood so much about me?
Why would I want to sit at a table with you
After you put my chair in the corner?
Why would I want to be let back in
After you told me to wait outside
And promised that as long as I’m good
You might open the door.
Why would I want you to open the door
Except for the fact that I believed you when you said
“I really do love you”?
You haven’t shown me love.
You told me part from you
Because I refused to support bad decisions.
So I guess the only reason why I have hope
That things will change
Is because I haven’t learned the lesson
You keep trying to teach me,
With your decline to engage or explain or lament.
Words are just words
They mean nothing
Without deeds.
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Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com 4 Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant 5 or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable; it keeps no record of wrongs; 6 it does not rejoice in wrongdoing but rejoices in the truth. 7 It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
1 Corinthians 13:4-7
You said you loved me
But you don’t.
If you loved me
You would have asked me
You would have believed me
You would have defended me.
You didn’t do that.
You ignored me
You shunned me
You talked behind my back.
You said you loved me
But you lied.
You said you loved me
But you don’t.
If you loved me
You would have approached me
You would have been merciful
You would have let it go.
You didn’t do that.
You rejected me
You cast me away
You stripped me of my joys.
You said you loved me
But you lied.
You said you loved me
But you don’t.
If you loved me
You would have spoken up
You would have said “This isn’t right”
You would have worked for peace.
You didn’t do that.
You put me in a corner
You pressed until it hurt
You shoved me out the door.
You said you loved me
But you lied.
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Photo by Mathias Reding on Pexels.com I noticed that you said nothing after it became public knowledge
And I noticed that you didn’t send me a Christmas card
Or reach out on the anniversary that you knew would be difficult
I noticed how absent you were
How your tight smile and averted eyes
Greeted me as I approached,
Yes, I even noticed that you stopped liking my pictures and posts.
I noticed
Though I never did anything to you
And I never asked you to choose
You did that all on your own
Believing things about me that I would have had a hard time
Believing about you
Things I would have simply asked about
Had I been you, and you been me.
I noticed how as others tried to stick it out with me
You were confident that I should disappear
That the only way to heal a hurt that had nothing to do with you
Was to hurt me more by telling me to go.
I noticed
And I won’t forget that you so quickly acted
Like it was the right thing to do.
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Photo courtesy of WordPress I once read
“A loss is a loss”
And now those words
Ring true and pure
When I think about
What I have lost.
It was not just
A place to go
A thing to do.
I have not lost
A calendar item
An hour from my day
An appointment
On an endless agenda.
I have lost
A sacred space
An altar where
I lay my burdens
A community that holds me
Wraps its fingers round mine
And says “you belong.”
And for what?
Why has this loss come on me?
For the sake of
Healing
And the
Comfort
Of someone else
I was driven away.
“You belong”
Turned to
“I want you to leave”
A poison in the well
That had kept me alive
In my own wilderness.
“A loss is a loss”
Each major change, a grief.
The Quick and the Dead 