Colossus

[Anonymous]

Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses

of trite, overused, perfunctory sounding words of consolation.

I don’t care how many times you’ve said them, whether you’ve ever actually meant them, or even whether you truly believe them.

I just need to feel like there is a way through the painful chaos that is my life.

I should want something better, richer, more meaningful

than Deus ex machina on a greeting card

but today I just want to feel better, I don’t care how.

Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses

of meaningless, soon to be forgotten, offers of support and assistance.

We both know you’ll forget all about me and my problems before the door closes behind you but I’ll settle for well meant lies today.

I just need you to pretend to care long enough for me to catch my breath and regain my footing.

I should want a still, small voice to whisper profound truths

through opened heavens, to my wounded soul

but today I am too broken even to look skyward.

Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses

of casseroles and kind words, of flowers that will wilt and die before I heal.

We’re past pretending now that these things help in any way but really, what more can you do?

Thank you so much for the plate of cookies.

I shouldn’t want to hurl the plate against the wall violently,

to shatter something beautiful like life has shattered me,

but today I need to empathize with shards of broken glass.

Don’t give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses

of wasted words and empty gestures while you maintain your distance from this wretched refuse.

Give me your hand, I need an anchor to keep me steady through this tempest.

Give me your ear, I need to clear the air, teeming with tension.

Open the shores of your soul and make a place for me.

I yearn to breath free.

Written by mercyngrace 4/3/2012

[Anonymous]

Brilliant! Very profound.

Help me know your inspiration. I take from these words that caring about someone, giving gestures of love and support, serving and being there for someone is really what is important…even if the words or gestures are insufficient to solve the problems. Knowing someone cares is what we need at times to help get through things.

Is that catching the gist of the message?

[Anonymous]

Thanks Heber –

I’m still trying to verbalize what it means. I was just working through some grief and this poured out of my keyboard – I want to be authentic in my struggles, not hiding behind the stoic facade of a plastic smile saying “Oh thank you so much for your kindness” to passersby who observe my heartache and make a token offering of well worn platitudes or plates of food.

Don’t tell me the darkness will pass.

Hold my hand and walk through it with me.

We tend to run from the intensity of other people’s sorrow and hide our fear of facing Gethsemane behind “Let me know if I can help.” (As was alluded to in GC on Sunday)

Don’t drop off a cake and leave.

Stay with me,

Watch with me a moment.

[Anonymous]

Beautifully written.

Before my moment of grief, I never fully realized how shallow many clichés of comfort actually sound. I try to be forgiving of those that say the wrong things or drop off an obligatory baked good and then retreat. I was there once. My ineptitude was born from a combination of not knowing any better and also a general discomfort with real pain and loss. One perspective that DW and I have discussed is that our pain has enabled us to be more helpful to other people who hurt.

One question though – What is the meaning of the title “Colossus”?

[Anonymous]

Roy,

The Colossus was a monument in Rhodes to the Greek Titan Helios in honor of a victories in war. It was one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.

When France gave the US the Statue of Liberty, Emma Lazarus wrote a poem called the New Colossus. It was about what the statue stood for – rather than celebrating the spoils of war or its own greatness, this new nation would welcome the poor, the downtrodden, the rejected unwashed masses. All the undesirables were welcomed and her shores teemed, Ellis Island, with them.

The phrasing in my poem which you recognize as being related to the writing on the Statue of Liberty hearkens back to the idea of the new colossus who was supposed to offer meaningful rescue to the suffering and oppressed.

In that sense, the poem could be political, I suppose, about token efforts to provide aid to immigrants all while rounding them up for deportation, or about the Christians who say hate the sin, love the sinner, but avoid gay people like the plague.

More directly, a colossus is simply something overwhelmingly huge – the elephant in the room, the issue you can’t avoid, the grief whose shadow you can’t evade.

[Anonymous]

mercyngrace wrote:

Don’t tell me the darkness will pass.

Hold my hand and walk through it with me.

…

Don’t drop off a cake and leave.

Stay with me,

Watch with me a moment.

:thumbup: nice thoughts! Thanks for sharing.

I think sometimes you cant find words or do they perfect service. You just need to be there, be a dependable friend, care.

[Anonymous]

Roy ~

I got distracted talking about the Colossus and forgot to add that I completely agree and understand what you wrote about being forgiving of those who have no idea what to say or do.

Most of what I write is written based on what I see in the mirror.

Watching a friend suffer some agonizing grief brought back a lot of awful feelings from my own “dark night of the soul” and I often feel frustrated not so much at what others didn’t do for me but at what I am so unable to do for others. I’m the one at the door with the plate full of cookies, smiling nervously, with no words. I’m the friend who has trouble connecting deeply because I feel socially inept in those moments where a friend is most needed.

I suppose that’s why I haunt the two message boards that I do. Writing is such a release. And it comes with an edit button.

[Anonymous]

Beautiful, m&g. Thanks for sharing with us.

[Anonymous]

I know that it would be so much better if I learned to open my mouth instead of just handing off a plate of cookies or a cake. I know of a family in my ward that has a son that is an addict…his family says he has health issues to the ward…but due to my daughter running in the same crowd as the boy and having seen first hand the boy strung out, I know better. I would so like to sit down with the mother and say, you know I understand, I too have a wayward child. But I feel like if I actually did that she would be upset or angry, so fear keeps me from doing it. I know when my son was struggling with friends talking him into doing drugs that I would have given my eye teeth to talk to someone about it, but I dared not open my mouth at church for fear of judgement….yet there are many who struggle with the same issue with their own children.

I just think it’s a shame that all we are inclined to do is the superficial acts due to cultural pressure, and that if we were really honest in church and actually suckered those in need, we would be closer to being the gospel Christ actually wants.

[Anonymous]

So I’ve been trying my hand at a companion piece that describes the same experience described in Colossus but from the perspective of the person trying to serve but wholly incapable of meeting the real needs of the suffering person. Here goes:

No title yet….

I watch and pray

as every sob shatters the silence like a haunting refrain

And each jagged breath pierces my soul like a spear.

My heart is rent afresh with every shudder.

I watch and pray

as matted hair and sweat adorn your furrowed brow, an inglorious crown,

And dark mourning clothes you like a wine stained robe.

Fear stays my hand though I long to smooth your curls and wipe away your tears.

I watch and pray

As anguish etches lines across your tortured face

And your throbbing head and broken heart pound, pound, pound.

A lump arises in my own throat now sore from choking back frustration.

I watch and pray

As you carry an inhuman burden with stoic determination

And your heavy footfalls, trembling, tread a well worn path.

Powerless to save, I ache to make the burden mine but I can only steady your gait.

I watch and pray

As bitter tears caress your lips like vinegar and gall

And you call out in agony “My God. My God.”

I taste blood as I suppress an angry cry “Why hast Thou forsaken?”

I watch and pray

As you accept the pitiful offering I place before you, trite words,

And flowers, a plate of cookies arranged like thirty coins on a silver platter.

I hang my head, ashamed at my own inept attempts to console.

I watch and pray.

As you bear the marks of suffering and the stripes of the abused

Cursing the futility of attempts to lighten your cross, I go out.

And I weep bitterly.

[Anonymous]

Very well done.

Reminds me of MSH 18:9

Quote:

Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort

[Author]

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