There is a hole in my soul that needs filling.
Stuffing it with newspaper just won’t do.
Neither will ignoring it, or just walking around it.
The hole is a wound,
Not from the slash of a blade,
But from the steady friction of the world.
I need the salve of your hope.
I need the wisdom of the great physician.
I need … you.
Oh, my little one, you have me.
Always and forever.
I am before and beyond.
I am within and throughout.
I breathe inside your breath
And leave the dusting of my presence
Wherever you are.
The trick (though it is no trick)
Is to be there. Fully there.
Fully embodied; fully infused.
This reality is already yours.
Now, before you retire.
Now, before you even start your day.
I am yours and you are mine.
That is true regardless.
But when you open to that truth
That is the magical moment (though it is not magic);
That is when your heart quickens with the breath of hope.
That is when wisdom invades your words
And grace flows from your touch
When you become the conduit of my love.
Oh, Holy One,
I long for this to be true.
It seems I always stand on that precipice of longing
But I lack the courage to fall into that reality.
So, year after year, I come to the very edge of promise
And turn to go without fully embracing its truth.
I leave the blessing for the busyness of my days.
I postpone your call, to answer the phone.
Pick up the phone.
That’s me on the other end.
You can answer my call in that conversation.
Trust – it comes with action.
Doubt is just the mud on your shoes.
Keep walking – it will be worn away.