Lament

Look, O Lord, and consider!
   To whom have you done this?
Should women eat their offspring,
   the children they have borne?
Should priest and prophet be killed
   in the sanctuary of the Lord?

Lamentations 2:20

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Dear Kate,

Yesterday a man with paint all over him let out an apish cry, jumped to his left, and then another cry, arms swinging midair this time, and it was at a Home Depot close to where I found on the shelf all the consumer grade roof repair supplies wiped off.  I wondered if we were crying about the same thing, how many of us there are in this rain city, putting on an atavistic dance, amusing the angels.

And I wondered how many of the men in a hardware store actually knew what they were looking for.  We get perplexed in a jewelry store, yes, but the shine and the price should answer sufficiently to the mysterious longing we don't pretend to ever be able to nail down.  Water, too, is not fixed, and a leak can possibly never be fixed.  It can be diverted, distracted enough to stop acting up for a while, but who knows what other dark, hidden passages it will go down next?

Mothers eating her child, poetically speaking, has nothing to do with the poet having witnessed a certain mother chowing down a particular baby and now noting it down.  It speaks about a thorough reversal of sane, wholesome behavior, how twisted we can be when we have given up being the steward of what is entrusted us, the offspring of our Father.  We swing our arms, up and down, heaven and earth, putting on a primal display of despair, but the lament is not on how angry and negligent as we experienced God can be, but how our dark, hidden ways are now on full display.

I checked online just now and the repair material I wanted seemed to be in stock again.  I probably can't go up again until tomorrow, Monday usually the busiest day at work.  I will carry with me a prayer when I ascend again: God, please don't despair me.

Yours, Alex