[written for Advent 2 2008]

only you
know how you feel
you are utterly unique
and that makes you utterly alone

only you
know how you feel
but no feeling is foreign to me
as I walk back to you from the dark saying,

“   here is my hand
with more comfort than food
chicken pot pie, hot cocoa and toast, mashed potato

here is my hand
with more comfort than memory
grandfather’s book, mother’s quilt, a child’s ornament

here is my hand
held out to you from beyond all that fears you most
. . . rejection . . .
. . . . suffering . . . .
. . . . . abandonment . . . . .
. . . . . . unknowing . . . . . .
. . . . . . . death . . . . . . .

I can’t tell you yet, that
I am making good plans for you, but I am
I have begun something very good in you, but I have
I will be with you until the end,
and after the end,
and in the new beginning, but I will
I must only tell you now, that ‘here is my hand’”