Most headlines I just accept.
Honestly, I know what I would say:
But this morning my lips freeze, I see dead flesh,
And I can't say we will be OK.
I am numb, and truthfully so are you.
We're embarrassed to see dead bodies in plain view.
Most are black, others are blue,
Words buzz on my tongue; none of them will do.
If soothing sayings drip out on accident,
Or half-baked reforms I offer feel arrogant,
I used to think those words excused me from sitting in the pit you were buried in.
Now I'm ashamed of them.
Death rules the day,
And though its life-thieving gaze hardly looks my way,
On a different color its terror feels strangely the same.
So if, brother, your peace is my peace,
If, sister, we are lost 'til the Savior sets us free,
Let us linger together with a thing called grief.
Because empathy gives birth to pain,
And such compassion is the grandfather of change,
And even Jesus wept over bodies with a resurrection fate,
Let us not say it will be OK.
photo credit: Glen Stubbe, from the startribune.com website