The following poem is the homily delivered by J. Johnson on October 29, 2006, as part of the annual Samhain service. This service is a departure from the usual Theodore Parker Church service format, and central to the service is a ceremony where the congregation is invited to come forward and light a candle in honor and memory of departed loved ones. It is a moment of stillness and beauty, when the twinkling light of the many lit candles reflect our continuing love and reverence for those who came before us and along with us.
Song of Grief - by James M. Johnson
Dawn
it dawns on me
I realize
I realize it's dawn
I realize that it's not as it was before
I realize it's all changed, it's all been changed
I see that clearly with my real eyes
I'm done with saying "it can't be true"
I know the truth now, I know it.
I know the truth now, I know it.
The truth is ten sharp spears in my back
the truth is nine long knives driven through my brain
the truth is a fortress, collapsing, aflame
the truth is I am alone, the river to my back,
an empty boat left behind.
The truth is a solitary crossing.
Now I'm on this hard shore
staring at the ground, numb,
numb and yet aware of every nerve
my body is alive with hurt
and every sensation is a blow:
the smell of food on the air
the brush of wind on my face
the ache of my feet as I stand
the light hurts my eyes
the dark hurts my eyes
and even music is bitter and sharp to my ears
How can this go on?
How long can this go on?
How can this go on?
I don't understand.
I don't understand but somehow I know
this is a long journey across the naked land
I look up and wonder if the clouds hide
some great owl
who will swoop down and yank
my beating heart living from my breast
and wing it back to a high thorny
down filled nest lined with the sharp bones of field mice
then I may continue
an empty cavern in my chest
and pace my way through hollow days
with mechanical gesture
while my heart, high in the trees
burns in the wind
Sounds reach me,
the hiss of the kettle, the toaster pops,
some dull newscaster gives background on elections and taxes
and I see my hands move, make and pour
I drink, though I don't want to
I eat though I can't
I seek peace in the rhythm of the basics.
The street's too bright
my room too dark
and every in-between place urges me on
I can't be still.
I must be still.
I'd like a warm room with a sunbeam,
dust eternally settling in mid flight
where I can hold my cup and just look at it
and think of nothing
The day won't let me
and one foot follows another
familiar gestures rise up, greet me
the door, the keys, the sidewalk
I will prolong this walk,
the song of my legs will carry me
and the breeze may clear my mind
burn my thoughts to little scraps of ash
My heart is a house of cards
my heart is a stubborn stain
my heart aches for peace which will only come with time
this grief passes through me
I drink it, it feeds me
sustains me through the ticking minutes
the empty mind.
Am I an amoeba?
And do all amoebae come to this?
Swimming blindly on a slide
as the sun beats microscopically down on us?
Do we all drink from the same cup?
Swim in the same glass?
My heart aches yes then no
we've grown a long way from that.
But this observation is nothing more than that:
Observation. No solace.
No turning from it, my shadow
no fleeing from it, my haunt
no reasoning with it, my shade
my spirit, my weary spirit
And yet the seconds tick through my veins
and I feel growth
a bitter, stubborn root forcing out from bulb
through the rocky, barren dirt
fed on tears and the passing of time
I water this garden though my eyes are dry
I water it waiting for the bus
Waiting in the checkout line
buying food I don't reckon I can eat
I water it watching children at play
I water it at the riverside
dull clouds sailing heavily over whitecaps
wind tears my hair
wind tears my heart
jostles the wound
tears feed the bulb
the cup, my heart
I can begin to feel whole
I expect an angel to appear,
and she will say, blindfolded,
"Three swords shall pierce your heart
one is for Sorrow
one is for Grief and Loss
the third is You. You must go on."
And I will ask,
"Angel, how long must I bear these?
How long must I go on?"
But she recedes,
and I am left with silence.
I am rewarded with dreamless sleep,
my body and mind aligned in a straight flat line
that slices swiftly through the silver night
and my awakening is a suspended moment
where, in the crack between night and day
I am once more whole
but as my eyes open the waters flood back in
filling the room to the ceiling
overflowing cups, glasses, bottles, bowls,
sinks, bathtubs
drowning my heart once again
snatching my breath before I can take it
thundering silently down with the weight of
a thousand waterfalls
pounding, forcing me deep into the mattress
I am crushed
I am paralyzed,
Breath comes to me
and I overcome gravity once more
foot falls before foot
And I will walk through this
and the waterfall will part as a curtain
and my heart will be stronger
and my heart will have more room in it
through this grief my heart will grow
through this grief my heart will grow
but right now it hurts me so
but right now it hurts me so
10-28-2006