It takes a first step.
A step into the light.
A step into faith.
Breaking bread.
Olive oil.
Healing through stories.
Slowly.
Tears streak
A slow river in the desert
Though it bursts forth
Day in and day out
It dissipates
Absorbed by the thirsty land of hurt.
Bearing witness
Is all we can do.
Our faith is unusual
But nothing else feels as real,
Strong and soothing
As the unassuming love
We share not of ourselves
But through the grace
We’ve been welcomed,
received and healed
When we were lost and fearful
As well.
We first listen.
Listen for a long time.
And maybe, just maybe,
words will be necessary
But not before we first learn
to hear with our heart.
The right to speak
Into anyone’s pain
is slowly earned.