In Mourning

Today's poem is a reflection on grief and mourning, of individuals, of communities and of nations.

In Mourning

Sarah died at Hebron, her last breath,
And Abraham wept, mourned her death;
The tears flow, they water the dry land,
And time blows away like desert sand;
The prophet picked up the dead man:
The man of God, lived so short a span,
Until he died, and took him to his city,
Buried, mourned, and wept with pity;
All Israel will mourn for him, bury him:
The darkness comes, light grows dim;
The lowly will be set on high, above,
Those who mourn enfolded in love;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh:
Memories radiate, time cut in half;
Half life, that which remains, lament,
Weeping, garments torn, and rent;
A time to mourn, a time to dance:
Merry meetings past, happy chance;
Grief is destitute, she sits on the ground,
And bones are gathered in burial mound;
Mourn with bitter wailing, hope is dead:
And all that remains is the fear and dread;
Comfort all who mourn, and dry the tear,
Light the candle, take away all the fear;
Put on sackcloth, my people, roll in ash:
Where death intrudes, a chasm, a crash;
The earth will mourn, heavens grow dark,
The destroyer will come, will leave a mark;
How broken is the sceptre, broken the staff:
And the tyrant remains, with mocking laugh;
But the empires will fall, and tyrant’s throne,
Once so mighty, now mere dust and bone;
Nineveh is in ruins, who will mourn for her?
And nothing can halt it, nothing doom deter;
The land trembles, and the earth cries out,
And there is nowhere safe, no redoubt;
Woe to you well fed now, eating well,
For you will go hungry, your nations sell;
Huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
Weeping for a lost world, as you flee;
Wretched refuse of your teeming shore:
Lost are the moneyed plenty you adore;
Woe to you who laugh now, you will weep,
As in turn your day comes, time to sweep
Away injustice; then shall be no more tears,
Coming in the clouds, and an end to fears;
A wind is blowing clouds across the skies,
A time to end grief, a time for joy to rise;
They will soar on wings like eagles high,
Over sea-washed, sunset gates they fly,
Towards the lamp beside the golden door,
Journey onwards to the farthest shore.