point of view

Good Friday is my favorite holiday although sometimes I'd rather pass over the darkness quickly look to the Sunday sunrise but you've got to sit in the horror of it a little while make your home beneath the Cross and you'll see how He was torn the slow suffocation the life-blood that seeps away, congealed and continual how His loved ones must have prayed for death to hurry what agony to see Him suffer, exposed and shamed, for hours on end but they didn't even know the half of it all hell's darkest powers many eternity's worth of torture, concentrated into this slim span of time creation strains under the weight of this confusion something is terribly, terribly wrong the sun knows it, and dares not look on the horrible sight the earth shudders violently in fear the agonizing shriek rings out Forsaken and yet, He has asked for the bitter wine and vinegar He is willing to drink down the dregs of His Father's wrath The crumbs of His br...

how can I explain this so that you understand how it picked up my world and spun it dizzy til, now, I see everything differently? how can I reduce to a mere few words something that still keeps me up nights lately the tears are so close to the surface and the weirdest things will break the dam it won't make sense to tell you that I still keep thinking of the vodka bottle in the middle of the road why I want to learn to dance well how much I miss the  warm fuzzy-headed weight on my chest? words fall so flat if I tell you what I saw and heard you might be shocked,  might say "how awful!" and you'd be right (though you probably won't feel it the way we did) but  that's not the point. image source  

My brother's voice was one of 300, earnest and focused so the praise rang powerful, and stilled our hearts but I wasn't riveted until they took the stage some in wheelchairs, some shuffling and fidgety, broken bodies and broken minds.  in between, the 'helpers', perhaps the only ones who could really sing but the helpers were not the serious ones, oh no those who made the less beautiful noises were much more serious, earnest, eager and in all this beautifulness there was a lady in one of the wheelchairs not much hair, a bright pink bow perhaps a little frightened and when the spotlights fired up she winced cowering under so much glory it hurts our eyes, you see and my heart sank as she covered her face with her arm if I could, I would have said "don't!  you're going to miss out on so much!" ah, but I know the feeling it's just too much I am broken too I just can't handle glory like an Israelite cowering at the shining face ...