Echoes in Faith

It is in the silence that he is usually there,

in the angel music he will ordinarily speak,

but like many who wander and wonder

there is an emptiness and disconnection.


Shadows of shapes where he used to be

and a faint echo that which led to stability,

a heavy heart hangs low, he held it once

and led me by my own frail hand.


A desertification of my spiritual journey,

sand dunes and landscapes of coloured

hues of a sun set, strange birds and sighs

as the wonder that is around me -waits


by my side and some times I can feel

that he’s been there, walked this way

and in my dreams I am trying to run

and reach him before he is truly gone.


Then the crying of tortured people,

the homeless refugees, raped women,

and hungry children call me to pray

and in praying I kneel and beseech


and ever doing it in a vacuum I trust.

I will not stop even though he is silent.

I will not put down the calls for prayer.

I will never stop saying God is Love.


For Jesus walked this world and wept,

and so I will continue to cry in hope,

and proclaim that God is good ’til –

my wounds and his are bound together,

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margins are a great place sometimes because it is where change happens fastest but it is also a horrible place when we are stuck in them and grace is the moment when we can see that someone cares.

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