Bruised Benedictines

A song of a faraway river

carried through winding lanes

and complicated highway systems.

How could we know we’d find

we were coordinating puzzle pieces

across miles of moon-kissed clouds?

No counting moments, no looking

forward, no breath for remorse,

no worry of what has passed.

A touch of understanding,

one bruised child to another,

the song gains strength.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s