Karen’s poem — A Lament for Sutherland Springs

Here’s the thing:  it’s got­ten hard to watch the news because a mad­man (or mad­men) doing hor­ri­ble things to inno­cent peo­ple has become such a fre­quent occur­rence.  But Suther­land Springs hit us hard.  As we watched the sto­ry unfold, it shook us to the core.  For one thing, it’s so close (only 30 miles away).  The mad­man went to high school in our town.  And it hap­pened in church!  Seems like you should feel safe in a church.  Not any­more.  So a few nights lat­er, I woke up and dis­cov­ered Karen was gone.  I found her at the kitchen table, writ­ing away.  Same thing the next night.  And anoth­er.  The result was this poem.  (She did the art­work too–pretty amaz­ing, huh?)

 

A Lament for Suther­land Springs

Lost rage cling­ing to death

Stalked up the walk in black

On skin col­ored with chalk.

Bat­tling what was won

By God’s begot­ten Son,

Who died for you and me

Then rose in vic­to­ry!   The veil torn.

 

Excus­es will not work,

Expla­na­tions not heard

For such dark sor­row sown.

The Word being spoken,

Pro­claimed to the broken

By num­bers of His love.

Deci­sions made alone.  Let us pray.

 

Locked in minds a syndrome;

Air heavy, breath won’t come.

Lives are gone, but not for long.

Their spir­its are released.

No fear in any eyes,

Souls on the oth­er side

See light, arms opened wide.  Heaven’s here!

 

Hear the scream­ing; hear the shouting;

Hear the pray­ing; cease the doubting—

It’s a fall­en world.

 

Stub­born igno­rant pride;

Drugs, alco­hol and lies

Are excus­es folks use.

Just fuel to flame evil

From thoughts of sick people

In hearts that can be healed,

Trans­formed and made anew.  Why not you?

 

My ene­my, my friend—

Per­haps neigh­bor or kin—

No hero at the end.

Rea­sons for sense­less hate

Words can’t articulate.

Blood stains your giv­en name,

A coward’s show of shame.  What went wrong?

 

Pleas echo on the hill;

Pass laws that shouldn’t kill.

Gal­va­nize for action..

Show hurt some compassion..

Move from complacency..

Give grief some dignity.

Wis­dom calls you to her.   Please listen.

 

Hear the scream­ing; hear the shouting;

Hear the pray­ing; cease the doubting—

Change the fall­en world.

 

Thoughts in anguish reeling

Bod­ies move unfeeling

Shocked by the intrusion;

Life seems an illusion.

But there are green pastures

Near qui­et, still waters

On paths of right­eous­ness.  Jesus calls.

 

Faith, unseen friend teaching;

Hope giv­en, world reaching;

Love, great­est gift with­out end.

Food for hun­gry times.

Answers for the meek,

Fill­ing all who seek.  Revive us.

 

So let His Spir­it flow;

Pow­er­ing pas­sion to show

For­give­ness can be real.

March­ing to Zion’s hill

Hands grasped with­out the dread

That life will end instead.

Sal­va­tion to the lost.  Lord, come back.

 

Hear the scream­ing; hear the shouting;

Hear the pray­ing; cease the doubting—

Free a fall­en world.

–Karen Malm­gren

Comments

  • I do not real­ly enjoy poet­ry — you Karen changed my mind — I read this and reread it a cou­ple of times — beau­ti­ful, poignant, qui­et and pow­er­ful! I had no idea that you were an artist with words and draw­ings. Yhank you

    Barbara McMindes12 August, 2019
  • What a beau­ti­ful­ly spir­it-filled poem. Thank you for shar­ing this with the world. Praise be to God & all His glory!

    Anonymous1 December, 2017
  • Karen this is car­ing, mov­ing, and fit­ting. I need­ed to read these words. Keep writ­ing. Keep believ­ing. Keep car­ing. It’s what the world needs.

    Love you,

    Nan­cy

    Nancy Pridgen1 December, 2017
  • Beau­ti­ful

    Gretch1 December, 2017
  • Beau­ti­ful expres­sion of emo­tions felt after such a sense­less act of violence.

    Gina Bennett30 November, 2017
  • Strong pow­er­ful imagery. But I feel the dark­ness of your pain. Won­der­ful art work. Giv­ing Dallin a run for his mon­ey with your writing.

    Dianne30 November, 2017

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