Are you there, Becky?
You've called out to me once or twice,
and I’ve been calling your name.
Maybe you haven't heard me.
You've been searching for answers
in the ruins of yesterday.
Running from ghosts,
chasing pieces of what was taken.
But I've reached for you.
I've answered you with rain,
soft tapping against your window.
A quiet hand on your shoulder
when you were shaking.
I sent a sunrise,
a warm promise; a new day
spilling over the horizon.
I sent voices when you needed them.
The friend who stayed;
the stranger who appeared
at just the right moment;
sometimes even poems,
penned by anonymous hands,
that spoke directly to your heart.
I've always been here,
in the warmth of morning sunlight,
the breath that fills your lungs,
the love that still reaches for you,
even when you don’t reach back.
The sun still rises on cloudy days, Becky.
Faith is knowing I'm there,
even when you can't see me.
No comments:
Post a Comment