The Bowl of Sorrows

In German, they call today Karfreitag (Sorrowful Friday).
Here's a poem I wrote in response:

​Bowl of Sorrows
 
On Good Friday 2020
 
This morning I place an empty bowl atop my coffee table
a vessel in which to pour our suffering and sorrows --
 
our beloved dead we cannot mourn together
our ill and dying lying in isolation
our elders in lockdown waved to from windows
our incarcerated overcrowded and incited to riot
our perilous pre-existing conditions
our harrowed healthcare providers working in horror
our first responders risking their families

our homeless without a place to call or stay home
our immigrants and refugees who can’t find refuge
our fear of black men wearing masks
our fear of everyone unmasked
everyone who lacks the privilege to shelter in place

the classrooms closed field trips furloughed
the commencement ceremonies unscheduled
the valedictory addresses vanished
the college tours cancelled libraries locked
the athletic seasons suspended

the wedding festivities forgotten
the dissolutions of marriage delayed
the tempers flared the doors slammed
the abuse behind curtains closed ever tighter
the mutual understandings unraveling
the first loves by distance fractured
 
the workplace identity whittled away
the blurred boundaries between work and home
the emptying pantries and pocketbooks
the layoffs and lost jobs
the indecipherable applications for assistance
 
the travel plans terminated border barricaded
the birthday parties banished
the beaches bunkered campgrounds closed
the worship services via wi-fi

the hugs held hostage smiles masked
the stress-snacking and viral insomnia
the gray roots exposed the ends splitting
the things I cannot even think of
 
The heartbreak of being healthy and happy
the shame of sacrificing nothing for my safety
No grief is too insignificant to acknowledge
or too monstrous to mourn
 
When Jesus suffered the unspeakable
he pleaded for our pardon
Before it was finished
he fashioned a family
Together we carry this bowl of sorrows