Our Perfecter in Pain

 Our Perfecter in Pain

(“Seeing the crowds, He felt compassion for them, because they were distressed and downcast, like sheep without a shepherd.” Matthew 9:36)

Scattered like rain-soaked ashes they
dotted the landscape with their bodies aching.
They had tried to do it all on their own, they had
run so hard that they were almost wasted away. Now
they were etched in silence where their wounds were newly
opened for everyone to see.
They held up cardboard signs; they were their hearts they
silently advertised.
Some were broken, torn in two. Some were perforated and
almost split apart. The day had been strenuous
on the
anniversary of their discontent. They blamed no one
and were the same during the day as they were through
their straining nights. They refused to change their tune
even if no one listened. They did not change to a
happier key
but kept insisting that something had caused them harm.

They had not come to play, though the notion had crossed
their minds. It was all too magnetic, this melancholy that
settled uninvited upon their buried hopes. They were just
as alive as ever, but every movement was an ache that
threatened to split their humanity down the middle.
It wasn’t subtle, but it had been easily ignored.

Oh shepherd, our sheep-gatherer, stitch our dreams with
your story of healing. Can our heartbreak belong to you,
can you unfasten our sorrow for just a day? We live
but are weary; we are not fashioned for this daily
slicing of our minds. We are victims of the seasons
and love out of time. Candidly we would like to name
the captors of our dissatisfaction.

Oh healer, our perfecter in pain, see us again
and remove the blame we carry too high upon our
shoulders. Join us as the center of our multitude;
remind us with crossbeam love that all suffering
belongs to you, belongs to you.

Belongs to you.