Heartbroken

A Cloud withdrew from the Sky

895

A Cloud withdrew from the Sky
Superior Glory be
But that Cloud and its Auxiliaries
Are forever lost to me

Had I but further scanned
Had I secured the Glow
In an Hermetic Memory
It had availed me now.

Never to pass the Angel
With a glance and a Bow
Till I am firm in Heaven
Is my intention now.

Emily Dickinson
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My heart is broken tonight.  I cannot imagine what the families are experiencing in Connecticut.  I keep thinking about those poor babies and the terror they must have felt.  As a teacher, I keep thinking what would I do if I were in that situation.  It seems no matter how safe we think we are, these horrible evils keep happening.  Does this happen in other countries?  Do we just not hear about it? Or is this just our country floundering and sinking into an evil despair?
The media wants to make some kind of sense of this massacre, but really even if they do figure out why he did this, it really will not help.  Why would someone do something like this?  Evil does not even start to describe it.
My prayers go out…
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The Death of a Loved One

A dear cousin passed away this week and I attended his funeral today.  This post is in his honor. Rest in peace Larry.  You will be truly missed.

To an Athlete Dying Young

BY A. E. HOUSMAN

The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.
Today, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.
Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay,
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.
Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut,
And silence sounds no worse than cheers
After earth has stopped the ears.
Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honours out,
Runners whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.
So set, before its echoes fade,
The fleet foot on the sill of shade,
And hold to the low lintel up
The still-defended challenge-cup.
And round that early-laurelled head
Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,
And find unwithered on its curls
The garland briefer than a girl’s.