The angel of death blew in from the west.
Not raging of howling, with only a whisper.
Yet with it came turmoil, a horrible test.
And darkness so black I recoiled in terror.
She passed in the night, and when I awoke.
The vessel I sail in was far out to sea.
Ripped from its moorings, its bow lines all broke.
My port a small glimmer and difficult to see.
Returning was fruitless, the winds were against me.
The sun and the moon and the tides all were too.
Thrusting me further and further to sea.
My home port retreating, retreating from view.
Dense fog pressed me in, my way was obscured.
Thoughts swirling within me, found no place to land.
Distinctions, discernments, all lines were now blurred.
My vessel adrift, occupied yet unmanned.
I fell to my knees calling out to the heavens.
Help me, save me, oh Lord of my life.
Cut through this cruel fog, let me see your clear presence.
Show me your way into daylight my Christ.
The fog didn’t clear, my anxieties mounted.
I slumped in despair, my hoping in tatters.
Trapped in an eddy, all my powers confounded.
I awaited my doom now, and certain disaster.
This darkest of nights seemed to wear on.
Interminably, incessantly, time upon time.
No harbinger arriving to announce a new dawn.
Only mist and haze, keeping me blind.
If only the psalmist were right when he wrote,
That joy, our true joy will come in the morning.
Weeping shall only tarry for the night,
And sorrows, our sorrows shall all have an ending.
The memory of things that she loved made me sad,
Flowers and colors and scripture and song.
My tears started flowing, for which I was glad,
As the murk began parting which had plagued me so long.
Tears led to tears for her and for me,
For the loss of the goodness we shared through the years.
And sorrow for my own inadequacies,
Which keep me from loving because of my fears.
With the tears that I shed, the fog fell away.
As scales from my eyes, revealing the day.
The night of my sorrows was finally ending.
The psalmist was right, it was a good mourning.