My students and I feel the mild trauma that is to be expected of normal empathetic humans.
The family of Luis Aguirre is surely traumatized: we watched them slowly break down over three days as the helplessness of their situation
was superimposed on the recitation of their lifelong journey
of endurance of pain and thirst for love.
Who loved the Ones who were Lost:
the trauma of hearing, in parts for the first time, EXACTLY how the bodies of a girl and a baby were
stripped of all that identified them and left
in a pile of dirt...
How their spirits were
first tricked and then forced
from this planet, forced from their bodies, in what must seem too too soon.
That View, one might find peace and
let the air escape, realizing
one has not been breathing for a long time....
Attend the most terrible Gathering Event;
The trauma of an Aunt wracked with memories, forcing in dreams a new path;
In Dreams rewriting the past;
Finding a Future blessed with blessings from an unseen height;
a warmed heart that seemed too broken to heal;
but the more deeply that sorrow carves into one's being the more joy one can contain
How long before the cliched words of comfort, the heartfelt wishes of only good memories remaining
So easy to talk;
nothing approaching the place of no words.
Journey to the Broken Heart
is a spiral of deepening
fear that one cannot bear the pain.
One approaches and withdraws.
It is not lack of courage but the knowledge that one must still live; there is work to be done. There is love to be given
One may not simply travel straight to the center of the spiral, leaving one's life behind, allowing the heart and soul to rend actually.
Perhaps a little further tomorrow.
I ponder the trauma of those who man the Courts:
Who gather the sad clues of truth hidden;
Who staff the perfect dotting of i's
That no one may challenge and walk away in a sneer,
Whose womanly arms encircle and keep those in pain grounded in knowing that even a stranger cares.
Those who must get up and prepare the materials that make angels and devils shudder-- every day they rise, every day they must be at their best to serve us.
Everyone is exhausted from the days of trial.
But these must rise again, and again. They must document every malignant detail--now in these days in perfection and magnified fashion--
How do they do it?
How does a sister bear one more drop, one more tidal wave of pain and betrayal? and
How does one who trusted in most dulcet love ever trust again? and
How does a man layer upon his children a truth too terrible to teach them?
And when will all be known?
known to all. Luke 8:17
Music to cry with HERE Love Reign Over me