“Into this world,
this demented inn,
where there is absolutely no room for him at all,
Christ comes,
uninvited.”
— Thomas Merton

Turning off the news
(Suffering world)
I walk down the path to the waters edge
(Despairing angels weep at every fence post)
The cold wind whips the water into a froth against the gray stony bank
(Where is He in all of this?)
Autumns landscape has changed to winter
(Pray for us now)
The world, hard and cold, in its fallow season
(And at the hour of our death)
I toss pieces of bread to the small wild ducks
(Peace be with you)
As they sail away,
(and also with you)
I turn toward home.