The world moves onward to new Advents – blue:
the hue of death, depression, dark – what grief!
And yet – of ocean, sky, and berries sweet the hue.
Processions, choirs, and clouds of incense meet.
Enormous banners herald light to come,
but your departure makes this Advent bleak—
the heart, so hurt, by loss made dull, made numb:
the world is changed and I am held by grief.
‘Let go!’ great antiphons proclaim, ‘and soon!’
‘O come, Emmanuel,’ and heal this soul!
The words of prophets, chants by choirs attune
a need for heart and life and soul made whole.
‘Rejoice,’ they sing. And what shall come of me?
‘Rejoice,’ I sing – for Peter lives in me.
© 2014 Jason Allen Anderson. All rights reserved. Written for Writing through Your Grief class, Autumn 2014.