desolate garden

my god
i have grasped your hand
with instinctive
and with innocence
i clutched,
my hand enfolded
in the largeness of your
as i followed
through the thicket
of the undergrowth
along these unblazed trails

with a childlike
sense of discovery
in the paradise of peace
to which you led
a playground of love
and laughter
a garden of hope
and joy

and as the path
grew treacherous and rocky
and the waters rampant
i held onto your hand
as you lifted me
o’er pain’s precipice
and suspended me
above the rage

we have travelled
into the forest dark
where haunting, howling
songs of night
have made me curl
into your protective side
and now
as the morning light
filters through the remnants
of last evening’s fog
the path turns sharply
and suddenly
we have arrived
at the garden gate

your tremendous strength
heaves the massive stone
scarcely displacing it
yet inviting me
to take a peek inside
at the lushness of your promise
but, oh my god
i was not prepared
for this blinding atrocity of despair
which i now behold
as i let go of your hand
and slip through the crevice
at the entrance to my soul

my god, there is nothing here
but the starkness of abandonment
utter desolation
and sheer severity
of a soil raped and forsaken
long ago

i fall
sobbing, to my knees
and gather this dust
into my hands
and uphold it to the heavens
wailing my despair
as it rains its sand upon me
to be swept into the shrillness
of the whirlwinding
echoes of my screams

oh god,
where are you now
why have you led me here
to this plot of abandonment
oh my god,
my god,
how i keen for you
but it seems my moaning mourning
cannot penetrate
the coldness of this rock
and you are lost somewhere
on the other side

1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Trackback: very early healing pieces « Emmaatlast’s Weblog

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