with comings and goings, to-ings and fro-ings.
Artisans, workers, trade-folk,
professionals, elites and destitutes.
Native tongues, foreign tongues,
dialects, insider-jargonese and wordless cries.
Does anyone care? – Who? – How will I know?
My hurt, my pain, somehow isolates me.
Everyone else is too busy to be occupied with my need.
But I do need.
touching my heart and my hurt.
“I DO know. I DO care. Trust me.
You are not alone – ever alone.”
But it’s someone who knows – and understands.
This Voice speaks Truth and Healing and Peace.
The busy, noisy confusion fades
and the hurt.
what will I find as I enter thee
or bare my life, my soul, amidst thy structures
ancient and new?
the determination and will to live
even when stricken from without,
aged from within,
or gnawed upon by infesting agents.
Your shelter breathes the words
ABIDE – ENDURE – HEAL – LIVE.
of unremitting mortality that is laid upon my shoulders and my heart;
a burden that causes my soul to quake,
my heart to fear,
my mind to rebel against all that I know must be
because all the powers on earth cannot make it otherwise.Within you, dearest garden, I bare my soul to its Creator,
whether to life or to death,
and in the Creator’s love for me
find the strength, the will, the courage to accept
and be at peace.