I sat on the blanket in the backyard. A crushed soul, a burdened body. The tears never fell, they just didn't need to. They were held in the divine eyes. My broken soul was tended in the crying of the one who is divine. The one I call God - the I Am. The yearning in grief whatever its means of being present in life, runs deep. It tears within and pulls apart at the internal layers of being. And with each internal rip, will be the tears of the divine. |
The worker who turns away a family searching for a safe place to run to. A hand being held out in hope of something for that day, knowing that it will have to be held out again and again. The child, carrying an unknown story of who they are, disconnected from family, community, from the mother's care and love. A mother crying for her children who no longer draw breath. The mind disturbed and turbulent with life's worries, and imbalances.
When humanity does not hold the tears for itself, God will. When the tears cannot fall, God will let them slip. When we are unmoved by life's brutal edges, God groans with the deep pain of grief. The tears of divine compassion - a yearning from Love for what is, and what can be. A yearning from Love for Love itself. Love holding us all, in life's sacred and liminal spaces.