The Clearing

I stepped into a clearing
with only birdsong and
pine-needle-whispers as
company, and asked myself,
“How could I share this?”

Would the tall, straight
lines of a letter “T”
conjure the proud lines of
the shedding trees, here for
years, watching over you
now when you enter?

What could I write down to
help you feel the spongey
earth cradling each step,
rotting leaves that break
each time they hold you up?

The writer Thomas Merton
once prayed that, even when
we try and struggle and fail,
“the desire to please You
does, in fact, please You.”

I pray that, in attempting
to share the moment, it could
somehow be enough for you. That
you will find the wind draped
around your shoulders, kissing
your forehead, asking you to trust.

Or get the gift of a sudden
rain as you come into a clearing,
washing away everything around
you except the next step you need
to take to finally come home.

I hope that in reading this, you
will trust that there is a place
where you’re met with birdsong
and pine-needle-whispers, that
will hold you up, beloved.

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