by EC Nance
April and May are usually a grieving season for mission communities. This year it has been particularly rough. Schools closed without warning. People evacuated with a day’s notice. Graduation ceremonies moved online. Children face the prospect of never seeing friends again, without having done the leave-taking. I wrote the following poem as a reflection on this crazy season.
I live in a community that lives
in a semi-permanent state of grief
always separate
always strange
always leaving
always being left
but this season
the rhythms of grief
have been interrupted
so the fruit is left on the tree
to swell
sagging with tears
the separations
too rough
the strangeness
too jarring
the leaving
too fast
the being left
—well, what is left
but a splitting
where there should have been
a harvest feast.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
EC Nance lives with her family in SE Asia where her husband works at an MK school.
