The Empty Places
I see dotted lines around the ghosts.
Before dawn’s whisper, I rise— A navy sky not yet ready to sail. A body still heavy with sleep and confusion.
Suddenly, the road Is humming old hymns. Empty dawn nibbling Headlights in the fog.
A mind firing on the black fuel of morning offers silent prayers. Drifting up to the Unseen.
Glass eyes and a smile— Because he knows what waits: A day of light and truth, Warmth and hugs and love.
This soul needs love today.
He calls them brother and sister Like they are lost family, Because they are. Lost in ways they don't know.
Joy is the highlight. Framing a soul Drifting from shore Further than ever before.
Faces of happiness are fair winds to One lost in doldrums.
May they blow home. Or at least in the Right direction.
A Program begins, lubricating the soul. Eyes glass again and a chest feels tight with missed joy.
Every synapse is suddenly alive with memory and desire And longing to be one thing: Good.
HE is here, there is no doubt. After all, 'wherever One or two of you Is gathered together'.
And that is enough, Even though so many Are missing— So many.
One or all, the hole Is no less real.
Prayers and prayers And prayers.
Because what else Can a lost and Broken soul Offer?
But to ask for help.
Ache and pray. It comes and Is part Of Worship
For what Father Does not wish to Know the failings Of a child.
Not to punish, But to salve And sooth And help.
Like light into A window, Spirit pours Into this soul.
And out come whispers of thanks. For truth. For hope.
For the days to come And their morrows To bring every loving One back to this place.
Of peace. Of Satisfaction.
And joy.