That Death Might Lose to God’s Memory

“I know that I am a thought in God,
no matter how insignificant I may be – the most abandoned of beings,
one no one thinks of.” – Oscar Romero


 

Something about the fact
that birds are chattering brightly
even though
the temperature oscillates
like a stressed out needle
or a worried woman pacing a room.
Something about that fact,
the birds going about their day with no plans
keeps me hoping
we’ll find a way out of this mess.
Even if the world ends
(even if our world ends)
and the chattering stops
it mattered that they were here.
(Did it matter that they were here?)

This is not a romanticization of death.
All things decay
or pass away.
I am terrified
that all things change.
I want to know that something wonderful will outlive me
that God remembers and holds the infinite dead
and watches Her own tears scatter the universe like stardust.
If, like stardust,
Her grief will last millions,
billions of years.
When Her thoughts slip away from Earth’s face
I imagine the chorus of roars and laughs,
chirps and groans,
bubbles and rustles
that She’ll miss
echoing throughout eternity in the Divine’s ear
in that burdensome, turned tolerable way
in which those we love never quite leave us.

The Sun Comes Anyway

In this cold season, I am learning to be patient
to let go, to not scream to not scream to. not. scream.

I have watched petals drop all summer long,
all of fall
and I have placed so many dried out bouquets down on a frozen ground I find myself still crouching on.
From this place, I gravely look up at a gray sky that feels so vast and so lonely.

Still, I am learning to live comfortably in the endless gray
to make my bed and to put my socks away daily despite the storm inside and out
or what the window nearby tells me to forecast.
Learning the patience to let go
to not scream
or lock myself away from trying
or dreaming of brighter days-
This is me trying.

I am trying to hold on to this:
that love might still flower large with a radiance that I could have never fathomed
but does anyway.
It might come around to greet me,
and it might turn to-warm me
despite what I can now imagine.

What Beauty Means Now.

leaves 1

In my 25 years of living and in the year 2018 I have found that

now, in our world, beauty means

hiding from people that your family didn’t love you well

hiding that your family growing up isn’t kind, a safe place and put together

hiding that things in your family have still not gotten much better

and hiding that this pain has shaped a part of your brain and body.

Now, in our world, beauty means

not being dark

of mind,

of story,

or skin,

not being sad

or moody

not struggling with confidence

or having to be reassured.

In our world beauty means

not telling the truth of how everything is hurting

and not telling how you feel about those who perpetuate the hurt.

It means to be silent about your pain

your anger,

and your questions.

Beauty means you must always be smiling

You must never show fear

never show doubt

never need

and cry

and ask

and hope for help.

In our world, beauty is confidence

and not having to consider that the world gives you this thing called “confidence”.

(What is confidence, now, in this world, except being affirmed by the powers that be?

In our world, beauty means

that those who are ugly,

those who are dark,

and bent,

and gnarled,

must find their significance elsewhere

in another world

in order to survive.

My hope:  in order to survive the world

where being ugly

and being dark

is not desired

or welcomed

or necessary,

we must find our desire for another place

where being ugly is magnificent,

is nothing to fear.

Isaiah 53:1-3

Who has believed our message
    and to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?
He grew up before him like a tender shoot,
    and like a root out of dry ground.
He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him,
    nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.
He was despised and rejected by mankind,
    a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.
Like one from whom people hide their faces
    he was despised, and we held him in low esteem.

Inspired by queer, disabled, transnational and transracial adoptee, Mia Mingus.