My guitar looks at me looking at it
Watches me contemplate; there are not a thousand notes of healing on those frets.
But there are some, which is more than I have alone.
My guitar looks at me. Meets my gaze steadily.
Leans against the wall with nylon quietness
Says: No.
In answer to the question I have not asked.
Says: Melodies are not meant to be remedies for tomorrow’s memories
My guitar with its red and its strokes pulls away from my hand
Silence, it says, must come first. Silence, and more silence, and mor–
Until the silence becomes a minor chord; dissonant and incomplete,
like the taste of those thousand sufferings
Like these copper bass strings.
And that minor chord becomes a lower harmony;
a hammock woven together by frayed ends.
And that lower harmony becomes finally an upper harmony;
A canopy that catches tomorrow’s thousand more upon its rests.
Cradles them in its frets of forfeited tears and premature fears.
Lays the thousand gently at God’s feet.
(Selah)

I think we may have had enough songs to last a lifetime.”

This is remarkable, Rachel. I’ve read it several times. You honor my website by posting it.
Philip

Thank you so much for your moving words this morning at Walnut Hill. I am back in CT visiting my family, back in the home I grew up in, one town over from Newtown. My mom works at a pediatricians office in Newtown and knows many of the families as they are patients. As you know this tragedy has more than rocked the community. And we often struggle with how to comfort others and even how to answer certain questions ourselves.

Though I still think of CT as home, I currently live in Virginia, in a tight community of special warfare operators and their families, where my husband works. Our group has also often been rocked by horrible tragedies of war and we find ourselves trying to comfort those families and each other as best we can. So much of what you said today in light of Newtown translates to grief and tragedy in general and I am so thankful that we attended today’s service.

In the midst of the holiday season and during one of the few (if only) weeks you probably take some time each year to not work, I am so grateful that you and Janet selflessly gave up that time to be here. Thank you.

Blessings to you both as we enter 2013!
Katie