Holy Saturday

The darkness crept up my leg
jumped onto my hands
and crawled up my sleeve.
I could feel the darkness
cold on my flesh
weighing heavy on my back
like a burden that would never
be released.
The ninth plague has fallen
and the tenth has swallowed me.

In this hell I languish, but not lonely,
For the burdened always have company
Blaming each other, blaming God
Blaming oneself,  for
Anguish produces a need for karma
A need to punish.
It is often easier to look back at the wrong
than look forward to release.

Yet redemption is nigh:
Yes, it accompanies the peeling off of darkness
like an inner skin;
Yes, it involves a bone-wearying battle
against Death himself;
Yes, it means taking up the work we’ve laid down
and finishing the uncompleted love.

Pray that I be strong.

Ten Percent

I just read that a child only has about ten percent of one parent's genetic forumla (although, of course, it turns out to be completely random).  I started thinking about how little input I give to my child, compared to what the world gives...

Ten percent of my material,
Ten percent of my wisdom,
Ten percent of my frailty,
Ten percent of my idiocy,
Ten percent of my authority,
Ten percent of my beauty,
Ten percent of my wealth,
Ten percent of my love…
Yet she is my best hope that I unleash on the world
The only inheritance I have to give.