Baptized Rage, Transformed Grief

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Cheryl A. Kirk-Duggan. Baptized Rage, Transformed Grief

Baptized Rage, Transformed Grief

Table of Contents

Foreword

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Deserts, Wells, Stalactites

Now, Before, Then/Later

Whirling Rivers

Soaring

No Baptism, No Tears

Waters of the Deep

Torrential Rains

If I cry

Dripping Anger

Baptized Rage

Angry Cells, Skewed Waters

“Mists of Fury”: Predatory Unfurled

Angered Sweat

Fiery Puddles

Bitter Tears

Disappointed Streams

Addictive Waters

Ragged Rain

Damned Spot

Agitated Monsoons

Ragged Dewdrops

The Strain

The Heavy Feet

Missed Thoughts

Overwhelm

Clouds Dancing

Steaming Rage

Pissed Ire

Tormented Downpour

Dripping Pain (Anguish, Angst

Putrid Fog

Engorged Pools

Tearful Hurt

Thunderous Insanity

Ruptured Fluids

Liquid Agony

Baptized Rage: Grief Reconciled

Volcanic Rain

Used, Abused, Discarded

The Grief Cycle

Angry Waters

Musings before Noon

Numbed Silence

Stunned Grief

Wet Grief

Cruel Madness

Fainting Mists

Bastardly Betrayal

Death: Just a Breath Away

Revolutionary Revelation

Mental Aerobics

Starved for Rest

Exposed Canvases

Despairing Hues of Night

Weighted by Fatigue

Fatigue Revisited toward Love

Speaking, Listening, Loving, Living

Questions, Interrogations

Yoga Moments

Problems Hovering

Acid Boiling

Sweet Dreams

Many Days before Christmas

Ancient Fissures Run Deep

For Mothers Who Desire

Fear Visits

Opportunity

And Tears

Sister, No Friend

Uncertainty

Sadness

Pensive Moments

Exuberant Resignation

Illusive Answers

Restlessness

Anguished Indignation

Visions

Tumultuous Joy

All Desire for God

At Rest

Seasons

Joy Takes Delight

Complexity of Breathing

Disappointment

Whispered prayers

Waiting

Exercises in Serenity

Full Moons

Fires Among us

A Celebrated Life

Goodnight Sun

Divine Seduction

An Incredible Light

Mystical Moments of Joy

Right with God

Riding the Seas

Slapped Back to Faith

Another Day

Restless Gratitude, Formidable Challenges

Listen to Me

Gift of Grief and Shame

Poignant Dissonance

Mysterious Moments

Sad Puddles

A Closed Chapter

Moments, Motions, Experiences

Grace & Laughter

Monster Toys

Fires Engulfed, Flowing Fresh Waters Heal

Rage by Noon

Baptized Rage Unfurled

A Belly of Faith

Dawn Breaks

Surprises Dance in Splendor

Guilty Grief

Holy Bliss: A Kiss of God

Crashed and Burned

A Holiday from Acceptance

From the Brink of a Breaking Point:This Too, will Pass

An Obituary for the Never born

Fleeting Furies

Galvanized Grief, Gangrenous Guilt

Revelation, Release, Regroup, Restore

Wisp of Frustrated Reality

A Volcanic Moment

Vulnerability

Busted

Serenity

Circumstances

A Hot Summer’s Day

Trust

On a Collision Course with Myself

Sweet Surrender

Postscript 1: Stunned Grief

Post script 2: Baptized Rage, Smoldering Grief

Post Script 3: Bon Voyage

Отрывок из книги

I Got Through, So Can You!

Cheryl A. Kirk-Duggan

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Sometimes the words would flow while I was journaling. Sometimes it happened when I was on the stationary bike at the YMCA, or right after a session on the tread mill or during aerobics. After beginning Bikram Yoga, the practice that involves 26 Hatha Yoga positions twice through for ninety minutes in a room heated at 100+ degrees, I could no longer deny the feelings that would emerge. During these intense meditative postures, the issues that bubbled within me would surface. My body was no longer willing to hold on to such turmoil. Waves of nausea or tears or feelings of deep sadness announced my inner reality of emotional turbulence: feelings and realities tucked away and denied, so that I could move through life, and help others. I had been aware of some of this, but much of this melody of angst had been an unsung song in muted silence. I needed to face the facts that some days I didn’t have it all together, and clearly there were parts of my life over which I had no control. Who was I kidding? I know that most days I am totally powerless over people, places, and things. On some plane, I had known this a while back, and, paradoxically, in acknowledging my powerlessness, I actually gained tremendous freedom and power. This lesson had been tucked away, however, so I wasn’t experiencing a lot of freedom or sense of empowerment. I was torn, worn, and tired. I began to keep a legal yellow note pad with me for the purposes of transcribing the words that exploded within my mind, body, and spirit. Other times, I’d grab the back of an envelope. Over the course of a few years, about seventy poems on rage and grief were born. When I felt this volume culminating, over a decade had passed, and there were over 150 poems. My issues with my parents’ death and infertility were the initial catalysts for some of the poems. These poems helped birth the themes that ruminate throughout this meditations.

There were mornings when I realized that I was angry at several things – too many to name. The realization exhausted me. Those were times when the only thing I could do would be to tell God all of my troubles; the God who promised in Deuteronomy 4 to never, ever forsake me. Since sometimes these revelations happened really early in the mornings, I waited until a descent hour to find a conscious, human ear to listen; to be with me in my misery. The earlier thoughts, revelations, and subsequent confession were so important. Sometimes I would pray and cry out to God, and sometimes because I was so restless, I didn’t pause to listen for God’s response. Sometimes I did remember that prayer is a dialogue and not a monologue, and it would be so comforting to sense God’s presence and hear God’s response.

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