Wake

Someplace I am not,
A red-throated loon glides
Across a glassy lake,
Safe in the wake of her mate
Leaving rippling roads
In the sky of fish below.

In the place where I am,
I use silence as bait—
Waiting
For a single word to arise
Displacing
The still waters of my soul.

How I long to write a poem that leaves
In its wake a gentle grace,
A song lonely as the loon’s cry
Echoing across time and space until
It makes its way to you,
To the place where you are.  

I wrote this poem after several attempts at writing a full blog post for this week. Sometimes, words just aren’t enough—especially in the wake of tragedy and death.

It is a strange thing to grieve for people we have never met, and yet I believe this is precisely where the Spirit invites us to be: in both the ache and the healing.

So I offer these words as bread crumbs, not as a solution to pain and loss, but as a presence of peace to accompany us through these waters.

If I was confident of the necessity of any words today, it would be these:

You are loved, you are loved, you are loved beyond measure.

May you go out in joy, and be led forth in peace.

With love,

Katelyn

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