Grateful More For The Sad Songs

a poem about how vulnerable art makes us feel less alone

Photo by Damon Hall on Unsplash

One Hundred Days of Gratitude. Twelve.

Welcome Brothers and Sisters,
to the Holy Community of Hurt Hearts.

Please make the sign of the lost, and take a seat.
The Church of St. Sadness is open for all.

Turn your hymnal to page seven —and sigh.
Lift your faces to the heavens— and cry.
Only if you want to. No commandments here.
Except don’t fear,
to be fragile.

Here, we celebrate our broken by making it beautiful.
Just like the Lord of life demands.
Sit, kneel, stand,
take part in the Sacred Sacraments.

Drown out with a drink and choke with smoke
as long as you listen.

Even better still, sing out
and join your voice with the great chorus of us all.

You are not alone. Don’t you hear?
The holy sounds of home.
The human heart as art.