not as I am, or have been,
or by what I have done or left undone
but to that place, that time of becoming
where deep listening gives rise to a
chorus of wondering, and where in that
dance between attentive ear
and trembling voice, all is trust.
Take me to where hope lives
in gratitude, where arms link
in shared anticipation, drenched
by beads of sweat drawn from
the well of struggle and triumph.
Take me to where our eyes can meet
and hold the gaze long enough for
our souls to speak—not in the terse
staccato of rote response but
in the languid pool of spirit
stroking its way to the shore of belonging.
Leave me there and it will be home.
Copyright © 2008 Dulcie Gretton, all rights reserved. Used with permission.