It’s calmer here
now voices of some saintliness imagined
gently quieten
and give their way to new and broad horizons
of boundless love.
Are brushes with eternity remembered?
Barely.
Nor can I say I’ve deeply understood
just how to put my towel and basin down
and let myself be washed.
Still, stillness steers to hope
and in hope is once more seen
the one who brings delight
pure, unconfected and uncaught,
whose absence smacks of yearning.
In calm I’ll stay and wait, then
for each unscheduled tryst.
I’ll cease my desperate chase now that He’s near.
It’s He who’s said He’ll meet me, after all,
and, somehow, I’ve no other Word than His.
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