What is despair,

but a sorrow without tears—

hope suspended,

a crying out, absent remorse.


Despair holds onto its pride,

and together we suffer.


Without repentance,

without humbling,

without accepting,

we live without healing.


I have seen the world’s evils,

magnitudes of anguish,

beyond my understanding,

and I’ve despaired.


What can I do?

I cannot change another,

I cannot topple governments,

or rescue nations.


I try to close my eyes and look away,

I’ve buried myself in television,

in pleasures to help me forget—

can I just pretend this life is pleasant?


After all, the sun is shining,

the rain falls on the good and the bad.

God’s mercies benefit us all,

and it is a beautiful day.


Yet, it was a glorious day in 1942,

clear blue skies with puffs of clouds,

as the crematoriums belched—

humans turned to ash.


And it is glorious still today,

with a light breeze,

the sounds of birds,

chirping in the trees.


Meanwhile in China—

living men and women,

their organs are harvested,

from their bodies, for profit.


We are free to do as we please,

this is God’s love for us I’m told,

we may exploit, dismember and torture—

we may despair, pretend or forgive.


On this beautiful day,

I don’t choose to despair,

I don’t choose to pretend,

I yearn for everyone to be healed.


What can I do for those who refuse to repent?

I feel I must repent in their place—

I must cry the tears they will not shed,

and beg forgiveness in their stead.


Let’s not despair,

nor seek to avoid,

though we might fight,

the evils of man towards man.


No, we must face these,

and when we do,

what choice have we but to embrace them,

with forgiving hearts—


Trembling and broken in our love,

taking these evils upon ourselves,

offering them to God,

offering ourselves to Him—


To be transformed, and made anew.



2 thoughts on “Metanoia”

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