How many times have we watched the casket close?
How many times have our hearts nearly stopped beating because of the stillness of death?
We grieve out loud today.
The cameras are gone, now, though.
The horse-drawn carriage has come to a standstill.
We have now left him in his resting place,
And the departed has now begun his new journey.
And we are left standing.
Heavenly Father, please do not let this be another day that comes and goes.
Please don't let this simply be a beautiful funeral program put on display, only to be hidden in between the pages of a shelved book.
Down through the years, the casket has closed on so many others.
But there were no cameras.
Their caskets were sealed to the rhythm of weeping and wailing.
Lowered silently into the ground, the departed took their places in fresh graves dug next to ancestors of their own who were slaughtered in the name of hate.
And their story, seemingly, ended there.
They say this time is different, God.
Lord, have mercy on our souls because we've placed this man in a golden box
We've got t-shirts and hashtags
We've even got media coverage.
We've got allies, now God.
There are words--promises-- to make this seem like it won't be in vain.
And Dear, Lord, I want to believe.
We're crying, but we're marching.
We are weary, but we're moving.
Our hearts are heavy, but we are pushing on.
The names of those lowered, silently, into the earth are now lifted by the unity of our voices.
The energy of those murdered at the hands of injustice, surrounds us.
The notes of the hymns sung throughout the ages allows our ancestors to see this moment through our eyes.
They've been resting; waiting
for this day
for this hour.
for this minute.
for this moment.
May the "God of our weary years..." and "silent tears" meet us here.
Right where we all stand.