Silent, invisible, a threatening pestilence;
with a smiling face and contagious laugh;
a killer of dreams, destroyer of purpose;
holding no respect of persons;
It offers no Good Friday reprieve;
Observes no blood on the doorpost, Passover.
No respect for the aged, the innocent, the believer;
No regard for the rich, the famous, the politician;
It steals with impunity and breaks the scales of justice;
It embraces carelessness, hubris, and the opportunist;
But carries with it a reckoning, a promise, a forever change,
Exacting its fierce toll, it exposes our iniquities;
Empowered by anguish, terror, indifference, and uncertainty,
It demands audience with all of humanity.
Will our bodies betray or protect us when it arrives?
We cannot leave it to the game of chance or blissful ignorance.
We cleanse; we cover; we distance; we resist.
Nineteen; a number not of death
But of growth and spiritual awakening.
Death’s certainty receives a nod, but not before its time.
With places to go, things to see and do, love to make,
We fight; encourage; strengthen; love, and are loved,
Knowing tomorrows were never promised.
We claim the day, living it as it is to be lived,
Praying without ceasing, hoping without despair, loving without fear;
Serving without suspicion; kindness, and not cruelty; distant but not disconnected;
We awaken from our slumber to redeem our days, to catch our fall,
to embrace the promise of our standing. If we do so together…