Saturday, September 11, 2004

In Memory of 9/11 


Hear my prayer, O Lord,
and let my cry come unto thee,
and hear the voice of your children,
all those burdened
with death unexpected,
the dead, the dying, the survivors,
the blood of victims
throughout time
since Abel's blood first cried to you.

The Day

For some it was
a day to celebrate,
a day that a little David
brought down
a mighty Goliath.
that symbol of sin and oppression,
who would strip them of God
and truth and opportunity
and tear their world apart
and try to keep them
ground under it's thumb forever.

For some it was
the day life turned to ashes,
drifting in white dusty smoke
coating the survivors
as they groped,
trying to find the light.

For some it was
children searching for fathers
now pulverized
beneath an unbelievable wreakage.
wives looking for husband
husbands crying for their wives,
voicemail messages played over and over,
the last quick message,
a final goodbye,
the last connection
before the unthinkable.


Lord have mercy.
Christ have mercy.
Lord have mercy.

For the hardness of our heart
Forgive us, O Lord.

For the passing of our wrongs down to our children,
Forgive us, O Lord.

For the celebration of the death of our enemies,
Forgive us, O Lord.

For choosing to nurse our hate rather than be reconciled with our neighbor,
Forgive us O Lord.


Words were spoken,
and soon,
reality is warped into the image
cast by words.

The words were spoken
twisting peace into hate,
twisting plowshares into swords,
twisting buildings of people into rubble and ruin.

Where are the words
to ease the pain
of a woman who has lost her child?
In the anger of hate,
is she real
or just a counter?

Where are the words
to fill the heart
of a husband who lost his wife?
Is his loss
by the blow against the enemy?

Where are the words
to fill the lives
of the newly orphaned?
Are their shattered lives
able to heal
the twisting of others' hearts?


Dear Lord,
This day, let me commend to you
all those killed
in hatred,
whether by sword,
This day I commend to you
victims chosen
to terrorize the surviving,

And on this anniversary
of the evil that man willingly does to others,
teach us not to hate,
but to break the chains
that try to drag us down into the pit
one word at a time
one refusal to hate at a time,
one reaching out to those in need at a time,
one willingness to walk in your steps at a time.


Susan E. Stone, 2004

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Friday, September 10, 2004

O Man

O Man,
you who stand poised against the universe,
crying tall
how you will rule,
how you will explore,
how you will master.
Babble on
about your wisdom
and knowledge,
and understanding
like those who built the tower,
to challenge God.

O Man,
see how you stand naked against the universe,
your toys and tools and trinkets
cannot protect you from the dark
as your children die
from the hand of your brother,
as your women weep
for the loss of their beloved,
as the hatred festers
like a abscess,
destroying all in its reach,
ready to erupt
with corruption.
Babble on
about the new age
that comes from turning away
from the master
and standing alone
in the darkness,
where the lack of purpose
where the lack of hope
where the lack of truth
will tear down the tower
you built on their blood,
and your challenge
echos emptily in the night
as God watches.

O Man,
naked you came into the universe,
naked you will leave,
and your works will turn to dust.
And yet the God who you challenge
in your hubris
and your dreams
still holds out his hand
in love,
ignoring the spittle,
the stripes,
the nails,
the curses,
the challenge,
the hate,
and offers you his heart.
Babble on
if you wish to go down into that darkness,
or take his hand,
and enter into the light.

Susan E. Stone, 2004

Wednesday, September 08, 2004

The Center

Remind me, Lord,

that when I feel overwhelmed
by the tasks of everyday life,
the chores to do,
the pull of those who need me,
the work done and undone
that screams for my attention,
that you are the true calm
at the center of life's storm,
the one place
I can fine true rest,
the one place
where peace is not chased away.

Help me, Lord,
to remember to return to you,
the source of peace
when peace seems a vague memory,
to return to you
where anger threatens,
to come home again
when weak and overwhelmed
I still try to have my way,
instead of following yours.

be my strength,
my spring in the desert,
my comfort in the darkness,
my sure beacon in the night,
my home when home seems far away.


Susan E. Stone, 2004

Monday, September 06, 2004

O Lord,
In the darkness of our fears,
we turn to you,
you, who are our beacon
while the storm roars
and the darkness threatens.

O Lord,
when the storm breaks,
and the dawn comes,
and we view what we have lost,
and the fear
turns to grief,
the longing to punish,
be with us still,
may we cling to you
instead of shut you out
in our hurt.


Susan E. Stone, 2004


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