God, I Love My Work

Sometimes my ears are like confessionals,
Hearing whispered guilt and silent shame,
Hate, love, hate and sort and shift a ton of blame.
My eyes discover different pathways through the woods,
 This is what I do within my daily work.
I wear a cross around my neck
To remind me I am never alone….
Heart trembling as I see someone
Wish their lover dead.
And I understand….
Afterwards, I pray and tell it all to God,
Ask for power to help heal past wounds,
Remove whatever weight I carry on my shoulders,
Restore the lightness of my spirit’s name.
God, I love my work.
Sometimes I sense the pain before they do…
See through inauthentic smiles,
Help detoxify when someone has stored too much bile,
Untangle knots of stinging hurt,
Reframe the laws so freedom breathes more freely,
Wrestle with intangibility of grief,
Allow uncried tears to flow unblocked,
Find words for shadowed, hazy feelings….
Clarify where violence is wrapped as love,
Shed light on fog of dreams that speak through clouded eyes.
I draw it out, listen carefully to every story,
Do all I can to not make the burden worse….
 Often I speak a foreign language they have never heard,
Touch gently upon the secret wounds,
Wave and point a different way when they are deaf or blind—
With each question, I pull back the blackout curtains,
Allow the light to stream into the room.
Together, we walk along bleak streets,
Speak to the dead who shout through endless years,
Name each gray shadow and chant the litany of loss.
I am a guide.  I am warrior and priest,
Healer and archeologist—
 I am Atlas, who carries the world, if only for an hour….
As they leave, I look out across the lake,
Bless the setting sun and walk up the stairs alone.


4 thoughts on “God, I Love My Work

  1. You know what? That would be an excellent beginning for the first chapter of a book. Think about it. It’s really good!

  2. Thank you all so much for those comments. And the irony is that I did not think this was a particularly good poem! LOL Some of those I almost throw away end up being the very ones that touch someone. Fred

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