When I think about the fact that
I’ve sentenced myself to this separateness,
It seems I must turn inside out
to the place in my heart that still
wants so desperately to feel connected.
As I look around at every tree,
every leaf, each and every blade
of grass trying to make it,
I’m reminded that certain things
are needed and must be taken
We are bruised and so is the world,
We go on because me must,
We are taller than our grief,
More forgiving than our anger,
Capable of more mercy than malice.
There will be no miracles,
No trumpets or marching bands,
to goodness and kindness,
A thoughtful gesture,
A day when the lion
finally lies down with the lamb.
© 2014 DiAnne Ebejer