God, we are heartbroken in the face of so much grief.
What could we possibly call blessed?
Could we try?
Blessed are we who allow ourselves to feel it—
the impossibility
of what was possible a second ago—
the light decision, the casual stroll,
the easy exchange and ordinary duty,
a decent choice or a nothing one,
the sweep of hours on a day that was like any other.
until it wasn’t.
This is the place where nothing makes sense.
This is the place where tears show up without permission.
Blessed are we who allow our hearts to break,
for it will be some time
for brittle unreality to release us
Back into the land of the living.
We have seen and lost what we never should have.
Blessed are we even in the moments
when we are convinced,
absolutely sure,
that there is nothing untouched
by the ashes of loss.
God, you are an architect
and everything I have is in ruins.
Promise me that someday
something will stand
after so much fell.
-Kate Bowler
