Tonight there are two subjects on my mind.
One close to home,
and one a world away.
The reality of helplessness.
I can’t fix my brother,
I can’t stop the shooting.
I can’t decide whether I should write, or if the words in my heart need to come out as prose or poem. Over the next few days we’ll see a flood of words – laments, calls for action, calls for revenge, calls for peace, and cries of pain. All of which tear at my heart.
Hearts. Billy called again today. It is difficult to know if he needed comfort or if he was trying to be the big brother when he said, “I’m fine, I’ll be okay till Tuesday.”
Tuesday, eleven days after our trip to the ER, seven since we saw his doctor and still no resolution other than a bottle of pills to dull his mind until Tuesday with its promise of a new doctor and the hope of new answers. Hope for relief.
I can’t help my mind from rewriting the scene on that Friday in the emergency room filled with the sick. Imagine the scene. You’re waiting for a doctor when the PA system announces that a large number of trauma cases are coming. Suddenly, a nurse appears pushing a wheelchair stacked with supplies, then a security guard stands in front of the door – then more and more staff as the confusion grows and the ambulance door opens.
Flooding the world with
pain that has no words.
Sadness beyond measure
as the wail takes flight, “WHY?”
And again I wonder what I can do? Or should do? What action, what words would be a benefit at time like this.
For tonight helplessness longs to be changed into hopefulness, into action that will transform the world into justice, understanding, caring and love for one another.
For tonight, there is nothing more on my heart, or in my mind than a prayer for a brother here and a world out there.
May both be healed.