Fine and Flying

There is comfort in poetry, your last recourse

There is comfort in hope

There will be a hug to trust

There will be a hand to pressure

There will be love in a thin ray of light

That sneaks in through the curtains

And says, “Good morning, wonderful lady!”

There is comfort in the smell of a wooden rosary

There is comfort in prayers

There will be an ear to listen

There will be a heart to beat

There will be joy in the honk of a truck

That pierces your ear plugged sleep

And says, “You are alive and kicking.”

There is comfort in forgetting the past wounds

There is comfort in forgiveness

There will be a word to heal

There will be an eye to care

There will be miracle in a wing

That matches yours

And says, “We are fine and flying.”