In the past two days, 800+ people have died in the UK from Covid19. Their funerals will be attended only by immediate family members. Many more deaths are expected.
In the midst of such loss, it is easy to get absorbed in the activity of meaning-making. Easy to seek refuge in diverting our attention elsewhere.
On Good Friday, too, it is easy to gaze at the cross only with reference to Easter Sunday.
This is a poem for today.
today, why? is plenty today is a day not for answers: for a mother has lost her son today, just as a mother lost her son then. today we weep through our reckoning: stand stained by sorrow, stagger, sodden, streaming through the door - it is marked god-knows-where
but today, god-doesn’t.