“Thank you for coming.”
These whispered words
rose like a tender shoot
breaking through rock-hard soil.
“Thank you for coming.”
This heart cry, carried on waves
of grief over the day’s news,
washed ashore to lie
like a small treasure at your feet.
“Thank you for coming.”
I say like a person lost and disoriented
might say to the person who came
a great distance to rescue them.
Like a person living in some kind of hell
might say to One who came
from heaven to take their hand
and share in their suffering.
“Thank you for coming.”
I say again and again
as I feel your hand in mine
and reach for the hand of another.
“Thank you for coming.”
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