For those walking through the long winter hours.

THE QUIET POETRY OF GRIEF

We offer our anger, fear,

sadness, raging confusion,

a torrent of tears—bereaved

knife-wounding pain to You.

We wait and watch for

a flicker of communion,

hope, reunion. We lack

an answer. We labor alone.

It seldom occurs to us we

are already in the early morning

hours, waiting for first-light

to come upon us.

If these words meet you in a hard season—

you are not alone.

This reflection appears in my collection Meditations for the Untethered: Free Verse Poetry for the Christian Heart.