Thursday, August 25, 2011

what can you say?

It is hard to be near someone in great grief.

Bearing a mere casserole or hug or word seems pathetic, almost pointless.  What good does one tiny drop of water do for an enormous desert?

The thoughts posted here, though they were written regarding miscarriage, still seem to me to be very appropriate today.

Today, we hug and cry, but we do not despair.  Our God will carry us through and beyond all of this.

Death, Be Not Proud

John Donne

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

1 comment:

  1. Those solid, practical acts of love aren't pointless at all, but you know that. I know the feeling though. :(


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