I am the daughter of Earth and Water,
And the nursling of the Sky;
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;
I change, but I cannot die.
For after the rain when with never a stain
The pavilion of Heaven is bare,
And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams
Build up the blue dome of air,
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,
And out of the caverns of rain,
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,
I arise and unbuild it again.
~Percy Bysshe Shelley from “The Cloud”
~Percy Bysshe Shelley from “The Cloud”
This has been a week of cloudy images — some light and carefree,
some heavy laden and threatening,
some brilliant, some not so much~~
some lying face down in the water on a Turkish beach,
it seems at a glance almost as if napping, but this sleep is forever.
some heavy laden and threatening,
some brilliant, some not so much~~
some lying face down in the water on a Turkish beach,
it seems at a glance almost as if napping, but this sleep is forever.
This has been a week of the world slapped to its senses
to witness children dying trying to escape war and evil —
this is nothing new in the history of humanity.
to witness children dying trying to escape war and evil —
this is nothing new in the history of humanity.
We kill our unborn children every day in our own private wars
that we justify without guilt or regret.
that we justify without guilt or regret.
Now confronted by images of dead children while eating breakfast,
this one boy out of thousands dead made millions cry cloudy with the shame of it,
so many tears falling like raindrops soaking deep on holy ground,
ground we must share with the poor and oppressed,
ground we no longer can hoard.
These images change from one moment to the next,
birthing life, taking life,
a child in the womb to ghost in the tomb,
lying drowned on a beach
we come undone,
we unbuild the walls we hide behind.
birthing life, taking life,
a child in the womb to ghost in the tomb,
lying drowned on a beach
we come undone,
we unbuild the walls we hide behind.
Barnstorming 
My heart has been weeping about these very things this morning, even before I read your beautifully, sadly, descriptive word picture.
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Emily,
What you said here echoes what has been in my heart for so long – and all who value the gift of God-given life in all of its forms. Since the murder of innocent children – in the womb and through murder and the abandonment by society at all levels seems not to move the compassion and consciences of much of our
world, I have only one question – and that is to the Creator who sent these innocent ones to us to love
and cherish: HOW LONG, HOW LONG, LOVING GOD, WILL YOU STAY YOUR HAND?????????????
To try to add more comment to your soul-felt, grinding heartbreak so achingly written here would damage your
sacred intent and its effect on us, your readers. . You are a prophet, dear Emily. You have that gift — a seer in the true sense of the word.
And you share your gift so generously with all to whom you minister – in this blog, in your family, in your
community, and in your healing profession as physician. The Lord promised us that he would not leave us
orphans. That was one of the spoken promises that those who were present and remembered His exact
words would believe and pass on – a promise that gives us hope and consolation. . That is one of the most important building blocks of our faith. And so —
You and others like you who speak the truth and nudge our consciences are part of His promise to be
always with us until His return in glory when He will right all wrongs..
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I join your lament for the suffering and dying of innocents by the violence in our world! Thank you for expressing your heart here.
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