We sometimes build a narrative of having to be useful to God. Oh, how the “God-using” language can exacerbate the uneasiness deep within us! The problem is that we stay bowed under this load, even in places where we should be free to express the truth.
Writing about pain is both necessary and difficult. Pain is eased by being moved and writing a poem about pain gets it moving. In Andrea Potos’ poem, we don’t know what her wounds are – only that the cello is speaking to those hurting places, encouraging them to become something beautiful.
Have you ever struggled to explain how you’re feeling? What if we could use metaphors to help others understand how we are truly feeling?
How do I hold this living grief? How do I drink this boiling sea of suffering? Father, gather these shards. Redeem the years the locusts have eaten. Scoop up these bits and pieces, and hold them in Your Hands until Your grace floods every crevice...
