Because I know the end of the story,
I have a hard time seeing grief.
It's too easy to skip that day
and say Sunday's coming!
I need to hear middles of stories.
So I can see. Maybe not hear or
see, but feel.
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A eulogy to an ex-friend:
I've given up hope for now, but let's put a pin in it
-- until the One holding that first breath of
once-dead for all the coming-alive-again in His
unbloodied mouth
breathes hot life on us in the new city,
the new garden where we get to try again.
Forever.
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