And Shouldn't These Arms Be Black?

News of the death of  Bela on July 18, 2003  arrived by e-mail on Thursday .  News travels slowly sometimes – maybe no one thought the news was important.  Bela abnegated her motherhood early, probably too young to have much choice, choosing a lifestyle full of risks instead.   

 

Psalm 10: 17

 

Lord, you know the hopes of the helpless.

Surely you will listen to their cries and comfort them.

 

Peace to the memory of Bela who gave us one of our most wonderful daughters.

 

And shouldn’t these arms be black?

 

The news comes.  Words;

Hard, cold and stark,

Stripped of tender intonation.

A death two full months past

Rips a strip of hope

From my young one’s heart.

Grief and tears flow forth,

Spilling in drops on my shoulders

As I hold her.

 

And shouldn’t these arms be black?

Should she not cradled be

By blood bonded love?

I feel a helpless stranger,

Intruder to the pain,

That I can never truly feel.

The mother’s arms

That never held her close,

Gone now forever.

 

She’s learned to shed her tears with me.

Arms willing to the task

Hold her in grief,

My pale hands

Caress her dark head.

God, you only know

How wrenched away are dreams,

The might have beens”,

She grieves for.

 

 

Psalm 27: 9 and 10

 

Don’t leave me now;

Don’t abandon me,

O God of my salvation!

Even if my father and my mother abandon me,

The Lord will hold me close.

 

Teach me how to live, O Lord.