Cracked
Grace
Sick
My friend is sick.
Really sick—as in cancer
sick and in the hospital sick.
I wish I had a mountain of editing and
proofreading on my desk today. I don’t.
If I did, I wouldn’t sit here festering,
worrying, close to tears.
I have a to-do list, as I do most days.
It’s hard to follow it as I ponder away at
life and other mysteries
And ask questions that have no answers, not a
one.
Instead of asking
Perhaps I can try to step through this day
with grace,
This Cracked Grace
And let my day be a walking prayer for
wholeness
Whatever form that may take.
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