The Loss

I was young — my parents’ love had faded—

fresh eyed, I could not know what was to come.

I played while their tolerance abated:

growing scorn and yells marked their love as done.

A fevered shadow walked right out the door

with clothes gathered and tossed into his truck.

As father left, his heart was in a sore.

And I? Upset not knowing my ill-luck.

Mother watched, tears up in her eyes — I’m sure.

No recollection have I of her thought.

Everything went quick and is now a blur.

Separation untied their wedding knot.

After their own attempts with failed discourse,

they sought relief through heartbreaking divorce.

The Suffering

What advice were they giv’n that caused such pain?

One home was divorced into two houses.

’Tis hard to say, but to me it was plain:

pain caused new pain for them who were spouses.

Two houses emerged throughout broken years.

One led one way; the other was distant.

My brother and I had to traverse fears,

and there my heart learned to be resistant.

Though the travel was proximally close,

our dad was only a short drive away,

a small chasm emerged, not one I chose.

Nonetheless, it seemed it was here to stay.

A dichotomy grew inside of me.

Years it festered until I found the key.

The Healing

There is a chapel in each human heart

where one can go to be alone with God.

I entered: from the world to be apart.

In silence I opened my ears to aud.

Christ was there, wounded, with me suffering.

He called me into a new dialogue.

With patience I waited for His prompting.

In time he pulled me out of my incog.

“I want to go home,” said I abraded.

“O my child, where is your home?” replied He.

“The place from which I come, where I was raised.”

He proposed, “Why not find your home in me?”

I emerged with Christ; He as my brother,

I went home with Him to meet our Father.

Afterword

The three above poems explore the memory of my parent’s separation and divorce, over twenty years ago, and a continuing journey of healing from that wound. I am grateful to Dan, Bethany and the whole Life Giving Wounds ministry for giving me a lens, some clearer language, and a channel to explore this wound.

There are only a few memories I can recall to explore the day my father left our house. These are expressed in the first sonnet: The Loss. It reflects a memory of events that culminated in the day my dad left the house where our family lived. For a long time my memory centered upon him leaving and not the totality of it all. I assume it is natural for kids to hold on to the more emotional memories and not all of them. I later understood his leaving as an effect from both parties involved.

The second sonnet, The Suffering, covers the period of my adolescence through early adulthood. My dad moved to a place in the neighboring town and my brother and I saw him regularly. It was hard though in that there was a permanent paternal presence missing. I chose the word chasm in the third stanza to stress that sense of something missing and the need of a bridge to overcome that gap.

The third sonnet, The Healing, opens with an allusion to The Interior Castle by St. Teresa of Avila; this is a work I confess to having not yet read, but I have heard numerous talks on the Saint and her work on inner prayer. The second stanza of the third sonnet begins by referencing a song by Life Giving Wounds team member and musician Michael Corsini called Waiting in the Wound. This song had a profound impact upon me when I went on the Life Giving Wounds retreat and I still will listen to it and meditate when the mood arises. The word incog in the third stanza refers to the walls and barriers that had been built up in my heart as a protective or coping mechanism from the wound left by parental divorce that concealed me from others. Letting Christ work in this space is still a work in progress. The third stanza is a dialogue with the Lord where He fully enters the moment and invites me into Himself and to be a part of His family. The invitation to be a part of His family is an invitation He opens to everyone. I remember being at church one day when that dialogue popped into my head and I wrote it down. I included it in this poem to reflect upon the new family identity — another key take-away from the retreat I attended — found as an adopted son of God.

Lastly, a note on two words in the last poem: 1.) aud is the latin root of “hear” or “listen” (as in audible or audience) 2.) Incog is an eighteenth-century colloquial abbreviation (according to etymonline.com) of incognito which expresses a concealed identity. I am using these two words to fit the rhyming schema though they are not in common use.

Prayer for Those From a Broken Home

O Eternal Father,

You created me in your image and likeness and you long to hold me always in your loving embrace. Your love has sustained me in my trials and struggles.

Each day, I will live as a beloved child of God, confident in your divine mercy. I will place in you all my trust and hope, for you lift my gaze from shame, fear, and the pain of division to your unparalleled love for me on the cross.

By the power of Christ’s great wounds, heal the wounds left in my life by the tragedy of my parents’ separation or divorce, or family brokenness. Help me love, despite the pain. Help me forgive, no matter how deep the hurt. Help me have peace and virtue when old and new wounds arise. Remain with me, Holy Spirit, so that I may be a wellspring of healing for others.

In Jesus’ Name,

Amen.

(The above prayer was found on the LGW site here.)

About the Author

Sam grew up in South Georgia and now resides in Central West Florida with his wife and daughter. He attended the Life Giving Wounds retreat in 2018 after completing his graduate studies at The Catholic University of America where he studied Library and Information Science, American History and met his wife. As a hobby, he has recently taken an interest in gardening. This year he is growing tomatoes, jalapenos, a variety of herbs and he has a couple of squash plants. Sam is a convert to the Catholic faith having grown up in other Christian denominations. His mantra is Love to Know — Know to Live — Live to Love. In March of 2023, Sam joined the Life-Giving Wounds team as the blog coordinator.

Reflection Questions for Small Groups or Individuals

1. How does the poem speak to you? Does any part resonate with your experience?

2. How has the Lord spoken to you when in Silence?

3. What comes to mind when you hear the word Home?

4. What would you include in a poem about your memories of your parent’s divorce and your healing journey?