(By Rachel Joyce)
There are some sorrows too deep for words.
Like shards of shrapnel,
Embedded in our core,
Making it hard
To even breathe deeply.
We reel from the effort it takes
Just to live this life
And pray for strength
To keep from giving up,
“God, hold me close.”
Some, passing by, offer a Band-Aid,
Fling out a verse
As they hurry past,
As though that
Would stop the hemorrhaging.
It takes compassion to draw close, to listen,
To grieve together
In this place of pain,
Where sorrow suffocates
And healing seems so far away.
Love is as love does, always true,
Holding out hope even
In the midst of darkest grief
Weeping, embracing,
Close and tender.
And healing comes almost imperceptibly,
Slowly, gently, gradually,
As the light of His presence
Cleanses, purifies, makes whole
Through the prayers of faithful friends.
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