- A poem by Emily Messieh
How is this Good Friday?
I cannot imagine what you endured. I cannot. But I know darkness – darkness so thick, like a fog you cannot see through. I know pain – debilitating, heart wrenching, gut turning, tears burning pain. I know betrayal – to believe and trust, for that person to show you again that you walk alone. I know isolation – to walk a path that nobody understands, to sit with such a heavy weight that it is impossible for someone else to understand. I know injustice – what is stolen from women against their will, children slaughtered, religious folk posing in Your name – for self-interest, pride and privilege. I know anger – I’ve turned a few tables over myself. I’d have loved to drive them out too. I know what it is to be beaten – to be so badly bruised that your whole-body aches, and there is no relief from the pain. I think you kind of get us, Jesus. I’m sure you got us, Jesus. I’m sure you did. You changed things for me. You showed me who I am. You gave me purpose. Death has a sting. A pain that cannot be removed. The realisation of absence that will not be filled. Someone stolen that will never return. Grief is illogical. Emotions are haywire. Why? Why? You were our hope. The darkness has taken You away, consumed You. We watched You suffer, our hearts breaking more each breath You struggled for. The confusion. The doubts. You promised a new life. Where is this new life? Where is our new world? You are gone, and we are here, and we never planned this. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. Jesus, we need You. Where are You? You left us, just like everyone else has. Despair. Doubt. Loss. Turmoil. Tears. We weep.
Emily is a renowned community connector, advocate for women, Asset Based Community Development advocate and leader in her local community, recognised for her work as the Local Woman of the Year in New South Wales in 2016. She has delivered training and workshops all around Australia, empowering communities to address gender based violence and discover the inherent dignity and worth in everyone.
See all previous articles and poems by Emily Messieh