The woman in the black veil still weeps. The earth is saturated with her tears, and quakes in anger and sorrow. The sounds of her weeping and wailing pierces the very soul, and gives way to emotional waves of sadness. Only the tormented and afflicted know her pain. She walks among the shadows at night; her long black dress adorned with lace, drags on the ground behind her. Her black veil conceals her face. The children of the night and the afflicted know her name; she calls to them in a haunting voice and they come. They slowly approach with faces of sadness and watery eyes of pain; she wipes the tears from their eyes through black satin gloves. In silence, they congregate around her in a circle and stretch forth their hands to touch her; in each ear she faintly whispers the name of the child she lost, and to the afflicted she gives a sorrowful kiss. One by one they slowly depart, and fade into the darkness. The memory of her lost child is sealed within her. With a loud voice, she screams the name of her dead beloved repetitively—then silence. The darkness knows her name and is consumed with her anguish. The abyss is stirred.
Tag: Writing
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See me;
See me for who I am.
In my passion, see my desire;
In my weeping, see my pain:
In my warmth, see my love;
In my agony, see my affliction. -
In the face of fear let us hold onto our light;
In our darkest hours we will prevail against the horrors of the night.
Though we are sorrowful, we are spirited;
Though we may fear, our hearts will not fail;
Though our crosses are heavy, we will not falter;
Though we shed tears, our hearts are filled with love;
Though we are misunderstood, we will persevere;
Though we may be unloved, we will find the strength to love ourselves.Neither fear, nor sorrow, nor doubt, nor tribulation, nor fire, or deep waters stop our resolve.
Let our names be written in gold and read aloud in heaven’s roll.
Let the world stare upon us in jealousy and wonder.
Let us, the sorrowful, meet at that peaceful river and cry in each other’s arms.
Let us all link and hold each other in love as we silently turn our heads to the sky and look at the starlight. -
In the pitch darkness of desolation, the sun doesn’t shine;
I have my sight, but in the deep darkness of sorrow I am blind. -
“Jesus wept.” (John 11:35, KJV)
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As I cope with daily life and my own personal struggles and sorrow, I hearken back to what I consider the most poignant scene in the Bible. Now admittedly, I haven’t attended mass in several years, as I believe in total honesty and full disclosure.
The scene or time I am referring to, is when Jesus cries out and asks his Father why he abandons him in that particular hour. I hadn’t read the Bible in quite some time, and when I reread the passage in the book of Matthew, it moved me to tears. To think about abandonment in a time of immense pain and unthinkable suffering for the sins of the world, is something I could never fathom. I carry my own cross daily as we all do. It is heavy but I must carry it. I hope all of you are well, content, and joyous. Sending love to you all.
“Now from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land unto the ninth hour. And about the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani? that is to say, My God, my God, why has thou forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:45-46, KJV)
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The walk of the sufferer is slow and staggered. Every step taken with foreboding and trepidation. They are worn and emaciated in appearance, for they are haggard. The longing of their souls is like a never ending prayer sent up from darkest of the dark and desolate places. To count their stories is to see a sea of despondent faces. I have dreamed many dreams of tranquility, and of that oh so peaceful stream. I have contended with the darkness, and now know it intimately; it is not a friend of mine, for it seeks to destroy me. I have heard the loud cawing of the crow; I have seen the terrors of the night and the eyes that glow; it has fed on my misery and sorrow. It has fattened its belly with the essence of the lost souls that are now hollow. It has rendered men soulless vessels of bone, blood, and muscle. It has taken. It has devoured. The souls of men seek reprieve and comfort, but their portion has been akin to an eternal purgatory without the promise of heaven. The weight and heaviness of sorrow and sadness, crushes the spirit and turns it to fine dust. The darkness comes quickly and inhales the remnants with vile euphoria. Like vultures to putrid and rotten flesh, there is nothing left to denote what was, or what could have been, just nothingness and the foul smelling void intermingled with horror.
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They hide behind calculated treachery, and meticulously constructed masks of deception, but the vileness in their laughter has given them away.
Intimate Compositions 