we will not be remembered [ii]

[The same, but very different.]

We will not be remembered.

In all the world’s history,
perhaps 100 billion people have breathed, loved, lived, died
and we could name only
a hundred?
a thousand?

We will not be remembered.

There have been as many people as grains of salt or sand, they say,
and hard as that is to believe
it’s even harder to imagine
that for every person that lived there is a story that mattered –
a desperation to have lived in a way
that means something,
that lasts beyond human years,
a longing to be something more
than who we are.

We will not be remembered.

And in every generation’s desperation to leave an indelible mark on the world
– in our clamour to be heard, noticed, not forgotten –
is it any wonder it’s too hard to hear
the whisper of an ancient love
speaking life and promise
into the world’s existence.

We will not be remembered

except we are
when this story
becomes real in every generation and place;
when it entangles
and permeates
our human story
with hope and promise,
so grace is born out of fear and brokenness
and love is carried into the next.

We will not be remembered
but the love that holds and makes us will

if we have the faith to let that be enough.