Week of March 10, 2022 - Rev. Dr. Mary L. Bellon
They are walking. It is snowing.
Around them the earth lies shattered
and the bridge they climb is broken.
A bomb has fallen here - a bomb from the Principalities.
When did You say, “I saw Satan fall like lightening”?
Did You see this now and before? - how you said to us
“I have given you the power to tread on snakes and scorpions
and to overcome all the enemy’s power” Look then:
There is a train carrying children across the border of hope,
from the hospital of their origin to the country of rescue.
They are followed by the multitude of walkers,
arms aching with the weight of children and old people,
walking across the borders like a funeral procession,
a sunflower seed in each pocket.
There is a parade of blue and yellow in Kherson
under the eyes of the enemy.
There is a song being sung.
We will not go quietly into this dark night,
says the poet, says the Ukraine.
We will walk with our dignity even if alone.
Some are hidden underground.
Above them the earth shakes;
in Mariupol the toddler is dead,
his mother and father stumbling:
grief is its own bomb, its own rifle.
Did you mean, “I saw Satan fall like lightening upon us?”
Did you mean, “I will give you the power to survive, to walk, to sing, to plant a seed?”
Here across the ocean, we are watchers and waiters.
We cannot know this unfathomable pain even as the pain
makes its way to us, sailing across the sea in a ship of urgency.
The world is a web and the piece that is torn, tears it all.
Now Lent begins -- again the long walk to Jerusalem, the Jerusalem of the World.
How He wept over it. How we are all weeping.