Our best friends left our church last weekend to pursue paid ministry elsewhere. Their move away from us was inevitable, but still horribly sad. M and I have done just about everything together for the last decade.
I wrote this poem when I was in an angry stage. Of course it adds unnecessary drama to a relatively insignificant farewell, but where's the fun in keeping things in perspective?
Leaving
It's easier to leave than to be left,
Only one can get to do the leaving.
It's better to bereave than be bereft,
One departs, the other's joy bereaving.
But can you see me sink into despair?
Am I one to wallow, fears believing?
If pages have a perforation, tear!
And if unsure, then rip and test their cleaving,
Try it out! There is no use in heaving
pointless days to pointless weeks and grieving
empty years still left to pass and weaving
hope from air with futile movements deft.
It's better to bereave than be bereft,
So while you talk of leaving, I've already left.
sar 2009
I can completely identify.
ReplyDeleteThanks Jess. Nice to have a comment and not be alone. Mostly when I put something like this out there, the silence is audible.
ReplyDeleteThe feeling of being left behind is one I know well. Those who move on seem to have the better deal in lots of ways.
ReplyDeleteMoving on is exciting. Staying behind is just hard.
ReplyDelete