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He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the former things have passed away.
(Revelation 21:4)
‘Our thoughts and prayers’
weightless words
drift,
disperse,
leaving
no trace.
Petitions scroll,
light on screens;
they cannot write
the stories
of lives
erased.
A finger follows
a map of grief, traced in tears
shed without water
on ashen cheeks.
Steps sink through carpet
to laden tables;
wine enough to dull
the taste of distant pain.
Weighty deliberations
to calibrate
inhumanities:
a hundred
children
in the
balance
will not
outweigh
one
offended
sovereign
honour.
A joyful smile,
a playful tilt of the head,
a world imagined
thousandfold –
lost.
See, I make
this world –
its indifference its cruelty –
its beauty and its love,
all things –
He bears
the weight
of grief,
follows
the salt-map
of every tear
to hallowed places
where stories were lost
and ash dispersed
and bones lie unmarked,
unnoticed
by man.
He leans
to inscribe their names.
They live
new
- Tom Ravetz
We have two online events coming up: a talk on Art and the Threshold and a seminar on the Prologue of John. For more details and to book, please see this post
This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit perspectivesmagazine.substack.com/subscribe
View all episodes
By Perspectives MagazineHe will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the former things have passed away.
(Revelation 21:4)
‘Our thoughts and prayers’
weightless words
drift,
disperse,
leaving
no trace.
Petitions scroll,
light on screens;
they cannot write
the stories
of lives
erased.
A finger follows
a map of grief, traced in tears
shed without water
on ashen cheeks.
Steps sink through carpet
to laden tables;
wine enough to dull
the taste of distant pain.
Weighty deliberations
to calibrate
inhumanities:
a hundred
children
in the
balance
will not
outweigh
one
offended
sovereign
honour.
A joyful smile,
a playful tilt of the head,
a world imagined
thousandfold –
lost.
See, I make
this world –
its indifference its cruelty –
its beauty and its love,
all things –
He bears
the weight
of grief,
follows
the salt-map
of every tear
to hallowed places
where stories were lost
and ash dispersed
and bones lie unmarked,
unnoticed
by man.
He leans
to inscribe their names.
They live
new
- Tom Ravetz
We have two online events coming up: a talk on Art and the Threshold and a seminar on the Prologue of John. For more details and to book, please see this post
This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit perspectivesmagazine.substack.com/subscribe