Grace and Peace to you.
Deep in the dark, tangled bone
is an original wound unhealed,
terror at a missing god,
despair bent to rage and loathing.
For eons we’ve borne the shadow,
generation to generation.
No one invents or refines it,
but merely passes it on,
stick in hand.
But even deeper is a root of light,
and within that, open space,
and within that a song,
and someone singing.
No wound can erase the space,
no darkness still the song,
no rage frighten the one singing.
There is no difference that matters
but loyalty to the wound or to the song.
There is no religion but the healing.
It is never impossible to choose
as the Gentle One did
the afternoon the light failed.
Be balm. Let the wound go,
and sing that undying song.