May my poems
reach far
into the wounds
of the shivering woman
with faraway eyes
looking for her spot
on the wet, gritty sidewalk.

May the words given to me
pour into
the original gashes
that won’t let her
feel God.

Perhaps the words
will seep into
her vault of tears
she will bawl
like the baby
everyone turned away from.

She may open then,
to feel the truth
of her heart-wrenching losses
someday soon, I hope,
to feel the truth
of the Divine.

Look for the One | How to Find Poems | We Shall Howl | In Remembrance Mary Oliver | Invocation | The Way | Enter | Quiet | Contemplations | You Are Broken and You Are Whole | Invitation