… watching for the brushstrokes of God
I do not know if these hands will become
Malcolm’s – raised and fisted
or Martin’s – open and asking
or James’s – curled around a pen.
I do not know if these hands will be
Rosa’s
or Ruby’s
gently gloved
and fiercely folded
calmly in a lap,
on a desk,
around a book,
ready
to change the world…
Jacqueline Woodson, Brown Girl Dreaming
What story do your hands tell? What do your hands open toward? How will you change the world?
Today would have been my dad’s 88th birthday. He died on Palm Sunday, April 5, 2020 and I am still waiting to be able to travel in order to hold a funeral. As we are opening up, we are bringing our losses and dead with us.
How do we remember, grieve and lay to rest our losses? Our layer upon layer of trauma?
What is the nature of a life that continues beyond trauma? Cathy Caruth
I am from Charlottesville
burning torches winding their way
through trauma ancient and new
embodied, colliding, rising
Where does it hurt? Ruby Sales asked
truth revealed while always known
O God, we are the problem!
Eyes opened I wrestle Jacob like
Who is the God I worship?
Olam chesed yibaneh (we will build this world from love)
There are events and times in our lives that cause us to reevaluate everything we thought we knew or believed. What have been those moments in your live? How have they changed you?
With the Eyes of the Heart 