On The Road

Not on the mountaintop, but in the aisles,

Not in the death, but in the daily grief

Where sometimes faith is born and sometimes doubt,

Where stern deception batters at belief,

The day after the triumph, and the day

Before amazing thunderbolts break through–

In passing in the night, beneath the clouds

We glimpse behind the veil, at last see through.

If we cannot be faithful in the hours

Between the joy and underneath the pain,

Daily remembrances, forgotten fears,

The words we speak while trying to explain–

We will miss grace which comes so soft and slow,

We will miss God who whispers in the night,

The cloud of witnesses who stand beside

Another shore and in a greater light.

The veil is always parted, if we knew

But where to look, and what to see and how.

The bread is broken; between death and life

The door blown down; the dance stands ready now.

Originally published in Weavings, November/December 2001.