Don't heal my broken heart, God.
I want to feel the pain.
I want the wound
to stay open, bleeding.
I want to stay shattered;
Don't gather my pieces.
Let me grieve.
Don't heal my broken heart, God.
Let me stay here instead,
wallowing in bleeding love,
bleeding for him.
Healing would feel
like forgetting
getting over him
betraying him.
Losing him forever.
Don't heal my broken heart, God.
Don't take the pain,
don't comfort me.
For as the pain fades
so does he.
Keep my tears flowing.
Silence my laughter.
Keep me broken;
I don't want to be fixed.
I need him to stay present
in my pain, in my tears.
I need him to keep haunting me,
I need it to keep hurting me.
So don't heal my broken heart, God.
Let me grieve.
___________________________
[19. July 2022]
I read about a most terrible loss of a baby today. While I was praying for the mother the thought came to me that with such a loss, I would not want to be comforted. "Feeling better", ever, would feel like a betrayal.
Modern-day Western culture is very uncomfortable about grief. We try to make people feel better because that makes us feel better. But sometimes we just need to feel our feelings. It is so important to have and give permission to grieve. To feel all of it for as long as it takes, in whatever way it takes (everyone grieves differently!), instead of feeling under any pressure to "go back to normal".
I chose Haggith for this poem because she is one of many grieving mothers in the Bible. Her son Adonijah is one of the contenders for David's throne and almost becomes king. Bathsheba manages to get her son Solomon on the throne instead. Solomon then has Adonijah and his supporters killed. Politics and intrigue and we can have all sorts of theological conclusions about what went on here, but in the end you will always have people experiencing loss and grief.
I believe God allows us to grieve, that being a Christian does not mean having to be always happy, that it is perfectly fine to not want to get better yet. God lets us take our time to grieve. He will heal when we are ready.
So this also makes me think about how I am there for people in grief. How I pray for them. "Heal the broken hearts" - yes, but are they ready to be healed? What do they actually want and need? Maybe instead of being released from their feelings, they want a safe place to express them? Maybe I can be that safe place for someone. Just listening, not trying to comfort. Maybe a better prayer would be that grieving people can receive what they need - be that comfort, sleep, a listening ear or the courage to be angry.
So perfectly wise and wrenching. I walked with a friend who lost a child, and can affirm what you say here.
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