She says, choose today to live
loved. I sit there at the table, eating
freshly made banana bread muffins.
They are warm as the dawn I
missed this morning, but steadily
encompassing my left as I type.
Warm as the hands who made these
delicacies, the ones I long embrace
me a little longer each time they
depart. Warm as the prayer spilled
out before the break of noon, a
secret confessed between two little
girls: I don’t believe I am Beloved by
our Abba above. Warm as the tears
I’ve yet spill, exchanging them for
a breath of Your air. Perfuming me
in a longing to purge this lie out from
under our tongues. So, I continue
breaking my silence by asking,
waiting, listening, sharing hopes,
wishes, fears, heartbreak, and one
constant clasping our hands no
distance can intervene.
You, Jesus, our conquerer,
withholding not even a friendship
containing different life stages,
with glass reflecting understanding
light on our distant faces.