I hear your yearning,
joy and despair,
but cannot know your pain,
neither complexity
of your dream
nor depth of anger
your yearning walks
virgin ground, your dream
precious; both mingled
with longing and hurt,
concentrated
at core
of your heart
in mind's eye
and, with some sense
of knowing, I hear
sound--
your ache and craving; nostalgia
reaching hollow places,
where I fear to tread
churning rages,
like waterfall careening
over cliffs
into valley below--
life's trail . . .
know-- I want to offer you
comfort and peace,
but,
I am ill-equipped
and inadequate;
your yearning, joy and despair
seems sanctified;
my intrusion,
an act of desecration
but, I know my God can.
Gold trophy winner
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