How these letters, spaces
and punctuation marks form themselves
into something remotely intelligible,
and possibly hopeful
has always been a mystery.
We can feel it much better
than explain it.
At bare places where pain
and suffering have stripped
all sense of entitlement and control,
there is a swath cut through the jungle.
We don't need a map
to remember the way.
Each time we hear stories
of a remotely similar journey
by another person,
our hearts take that path again.
Somewhere along the way,
our brains join the trip,
sometimes abducted, others willingly.
As we near that familiar clearing,
the fog lifts, and we remember
the most powerful promise of Divine:
it is not protection, or power, but presence.
This is the gift that opens vocal chords
and directs fingertips to keyboard,
steadying us all in our naked places of hurt,
casting a flicker of grace upon our darkness.
|Photo by Todd Jenkins|
© 2013 Todd Jenkins