Little tears in eye corners
Little tears in fabric
Little sighs that come up
without my even noticing
Time to find some kind of mending
Time to hug, time to cry
Time for love and prayer sending
Time to greet each other without speaking
When the grand script is lost
and all its pieces
flutter separately against the fence
and we have chased them, tried to find them
patched them all together
and see in dismay
that now they make no sense,
It’s time to drop the story
and begin again
A tone, a chord
something to draw us back
to reestablish union
Something to fill the gapping lack
Somehow a new communion . . .
Frayed and scattered, we will gather
and will trust
that we will find ourselves again
because we must.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 11, 2012
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