268 - Grief

The daughter of a first cousin was killed last week in one of those terrible freak accidents that defy understanding. Walking with her two young daughters to their mailbox, a neighbor’s car slipped into gear, rolled down the slope and crushed her. She managed to push her daughters to safety. I feel unprepared to write or even to think about the death of a child. How can such a thing happen?

Two Hundred Sixty-Eight

Grief

As if sun and moon were extinguished
And creation’s light destroyed,
The order You ordained is overturned, Holy One;
I keen in darkness.

If I come to You in anger,
I am lost; no response can explain fate;
Help me sort the fragments of my grief,
Not to answer but to approach acceptance.

Let me kindle memory, as the sky grows light,
Bright reminders of a precious life;
My tears will be prisms, You will honor them:
Dry them on the cloth of Your care.