We made together a haven for hurting hearts,
a sanctuary in an office complex,
with sunlit windows for the doctors,
and gorgeous pictures for us—
the greatest of them a simple yard sign
held to the wall with stolen gorilla tape,
which reads, “YOU ARE LOVED.”
All this, a place where I healed as much
as the patients who walked through
our ever-creaking door into
our home away from home.
I wonder if you know, o gemstones,
the magnitude of light refracted by your facets,
casting sunbeams into shadowed chasms
where despair and desolation feed.
So many times have I stumbled darkly,
feeling with numb fingers for a lifeline
while all the devils of my mind knocked below—
only to have your gentle light illuminate
the path back to the world above.
If we are reflections of divinity and grace,
perfection and adoration in the flawless sense,
imprinted finitely in the mold of something infinite,
nowhere have I seen that glimmer brighter
than when it shines in your everyday words
of kindness, tumbling like afterthoughts,
without want for anything in return—
except, perhaps, for everyone to feel enough…
or failing that, "a million dollars and margaritas".
