Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me
with gladness. Psalms 30:11
The mourning after.
It is the morning after that followed the mourning before
Sitting in numbness from being curled on the floor
Well acquainted with cliches of closed windows and open doors
For peace, for relief, for significance I implore.
Perhaps I should have been instead on the floor on my face
Then I may have felt what I know of your love and grace
I must admit, in your morning light some of the mourning darkness is erased
But I pray to altogether leave this mourning after place.
The morning after when joy should come
Wondering why it hasnâ€™t since thy will be done
Surely this isn't the destiny you intend me to become
To this spirit of helplessness Iâ€™m not meant to succumb.
When the frenzy has relinquished and the rubble has been cleared
The tearful deluge evaporated and come to pass the worst I feared
Shamefully remembering the temper tantrum that I boldly dared
Iâ€™m at a loss for my human nature and how you will, do and have cared.
In the stillness of the morning I stand alone before you
With realization dawning that you are all thatâ€™s real and true
When the smoke has cleared and the subterfuge is through
The only thing worth meaning, is you and only you.
Annette M. Parrott