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.
