Aftermath

February 16, 2001

Grief is great in the gray light following the fray.
Droves of demons plague me, taunting and teasing.
The shocked, shameful words of the dying wounded
torment me to tears of sinister trepidation.

How shall the bent be made whole and straight again?
Does it want to? Why bother? Would it matter?
The deed is done but the damage is deep -
Deeper than decency and reason is the result of this disaster.

When you thanked God for sparing you and sighed relief,
did you ask his grace for the great sacrifice of slain comrades
or shake the dust from your feet with sarcastic sanctimony?
How do I deal with the remains of the day?

Trust is as far away as days of childhood innocence.

Send us grace and mercy for they are lost in selfish horror.
Heal the weeping and the straight-faced and the proud.
We need a new wisdom to sustain our humanity
against false identities and the cultured aptness of war.

All things work to the good of the faithful children
but the feeling is far from the fields where we played.
Strengthen the leaders lest this tragedy be in vain.
Heal us with peace of timeless wisdom and destroy despair.

Restore the heart.
Restore the harvest.
Restore hope.

Father,
I am driven deep into the depth of desolation.
I trust nothing anymore save this:
You will meet me there.
And that is everything.
That is all.

This poem was written on February 16, 2001 in response to the Dell layoffs of many friends and associates the day before. The sense of loss and injustice that I felt was far deeper and complex than I expected or the surface of the event suggests.

February 16, 2001

Grief is great in the gray light following the fray. Droves of demons plague me, taunting and teasing. The shocked, shameful words of the dying wounded torment me to tears of sinister trepidation.

How shall the bent be made whole and straight again? Does it want to? Why bother? Would it matter? The deed is done but the damage is deep - Deeper than decency and reason is the result of this disaster.

When you thanked God for sparing you and sighed relief, did you ask his grace for the great sacrifice of slain comrades or shake the dust from your feet with sarcastic sanctimony? How do I deal with the remains of the day?

Trust is as far away as days of childhood innocence.

Send us grace and mercy for they are lost in selfish horror. Heal the weeping and the straight-faced and the proud. We need a new wisdom to sustain our humanity against false identities and the cultured aptness of war.

All things work to the good of the faithful children but the feeling is far from the fields where we played. Strengthen the leaders lest this tragedy be in vain. Heal us with peace of timeless wisdom and destroy despair.

Restore the heart. Restore the harvest. Restore hope.