A Lamentation of March
It is a different kind of wrong than last year. It is less fear, more weariness. It is less uncertainty, more suspension. I can put words to prayer, not only groans. The grief is effusive, not so acute. But the fatigue is nearly the same.
My body remembers March. Oh Lord, in a year I have learned and have not learned to abide. When March is over, the lesson goes on. Make me faithful.
Use spring to break chains, loosen my fingers, settle my heart. It is flesh and not stone, which means it can hurt–
But also that it can heal.