we don’t see you at first —
sorrow fogging out lenses
grief turning sacred moments
into just another dusty road
meeting another stranger
who doesn’t look much like hope.
but you stick with us,
not speaking in a God voice
or transformed on a mountaintop.
but simply by breaking bread,
our hearts suddenly dare
to beat again,
as the crust splits and
the crumbs kiss the table,
and suddenly,
not because we solved the mystery
not because of a sudden burst of faith,
but because grace
always manages to pick
the locks on disappointment’s locked doors,
pulling up a chair
right in the middle of life
and gobsmacking us
right in our eyes.
(c) 2025 Thom M. Shuman
Venmo: @Thom-Shuman
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