Heavenly Father.
For those who are fortunate,
To soak up the sun,
Walk the streets,
Lay on green grasses,
See a friend,
And visit family,
Once more,
Gratitude abounds.
As we emerge from our stupor,
Slowly,
With red-rimmed eyes,
From so much crying,
Or fragmented hearts,
And minds,
Thinking, reflecting,
And reaching out for You.
Teach us,
To hold onto any humility,
You may have gifted us,
In this time of woe,
And death.
Let our pride and selfishness wither,
Our spirits looking only heavenward,
Never to return,
“To normal”.
For how can we ever be “normal”?
Returning to ways before,
Covered in dust,
And ashes?
While people ever suffer,
So are we,
Who walk ahead,
Bathed in sunshine,
In those streets,
On the grasses.
For when one member,
Of Your Body, Lord,
The Body of Christ,
Suffers,
We all suffer.
It is not over,
Until all can glory in radiance,
Black, white, brown,
Young, old, and in-between,
Every heart beating,
Blood coursing through veins,
Equally.
For this, You gave Your Body,
For this, You gave Your Blood,
For this You died.
To save us,
Small as we are.
Not for us to revel in the bliss,
Of our own personal bubble,
Not yet, Lord.
For none of us,
Is truly free,
Until every soul can live in You,
And Your Mercy.
None of us,
Is truly free,
Until tears have ceased everywhere,
For everyone.
Until we rest, restored,
In the Eternal Light,
Of Heaven,
With You.
Amen.
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