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Empty Places

This is a poem, not quite a Sunday Story, but if you look closely

it tells a story too and it's not just mine and it's not just about

leaving a home/house either (as many know I just did).

This is about a LOT more than that and can be about things

I don't even know about . . . and I hope it is something to you too.

Sometimes you stand in empty places

where your heart gets heavy from all of the nothing

from all that used to be there before it was moved out and

packed inside of you

with jagged pieces

that cut.

You walk around and feel ghosts pass by

and ask them not to hurt you and they whisper

"We would never hurt you. We came to keep you warm

and help you with

the pain of

letting go."

Darkness falls across the floor then and

your eyes cast down on the path you once walked

where still you can see footsteps and the moments that

could never have been

what you hoped

they would.

Regret. It tries to wrap you in its arms

only it cannot get hold because you have gotten

too big with all of the knowing that makes your soul swell

and makes you tender

because it hurts

to care.

Then courage reaches for your hand and

says that it will be slippery where you're going

but just hold tight when it gets so hard not being sure

what you really want

and what you

can do

because you'll be OK

even inside those

empty places.

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