Tag Archives: Grieving

Bleeding Words

Captain Jay Ruffins, 17th Century Quills from Rufus King Manor museum in Jamaica, Queens shared under Creative Commons 4.0 Share Alike

Forgive the words that bleed out from this pen
For the ink that forms them is a torturous mixture
Of a wounded heart’s flow mixed with the saline
Of the river of tears which flow to the sea of grief
And the trembling hands which wield the implement
Shake as they attempt to record the wounds of the world
And like so much spilled blood it rushes like streams
To poison the wells of joy that once nourished

Perhaps like the prophets’ words later generations may see
That these harsh words were the fertilizer for some new growth
Where those who mourn may be comforted as the tears dry
And the poet’s heart is lovingly knit back together by time
Then perhaps the words will be the creative words of spring
But now those words are an unknown language strange to the ear
Words whose syllables have no meaning to the grieving soul
Who must drink of the putrid waters of their own well

For everything there is a time, a time to bleed and a time to heal
And I must speak the words of that bubble up from the well of the soul
Where the light of life seems a tremulous flame in the squall
Where the cold of winter penetrates into the marrow of the bones
And where the slow tick of the clock marks the passage of pain
While I wait for the pen to slowly run out of this tortured ink
For the rivers to dry up as the sun reemerges from its dormancy
Longing for the language whose sounds my tongue cannot form
Joyously drinking from the sweet waters of newly dug wells

The Transplanted Rose-A Poem and an Update

purple rose 01 by picsofflowers.blogspot.com

As I continue to follow the path laid before me
Blown by the Spirit’s movement to once again pull up roots
To be transplanted in some new place, some new soil
One would think that after so many places, so many gardens
That leaving would be easier, but rather it grows harder
For the rose’s roots became intertwined with the other roots
From the garden where I have grown and healed for three cycles
And I will miss the beauty of the other flowers

I grieve any pain my dislocation causes the garden
And yet, such is the cost of love and connection
Somedays I see only the trail of broken hearts left behind
And not the gift of their friendship and companionship in my sojourn
Each garden, each place, each climate, each connection
Have nourished my growth, fed my spirit and allowed me to bloom
And within my memory I carry the care and compassion of so many
And I long for the day when my roots are again planted.

Update: I am moving to take the call as the pastor of Rejoice Lutheran in Frisco, Texas which means leaving behind the many connections I have formed at Trinity Lutheran in Papillion, Nebraska and the broader Papillion and Omaha areas. The actual transition will take place in the second half of September, but as my current congregation now is aware of this move it begins the grieving process for both me and them. Several of my earlier poems like Tension and Waiting were also written while contemplating this decision. I’m not sure how this transition will affect my postings on SignoftheRose, I plan to keep up with the blog but if my posting slows down it will be due to the requirements of the move or the new position.