What stillness could you cull from the wind brushing the sapling at the foot of the window?
What have you named glorious
Before you ever knew what glory was
Or what was its price
Or what was its weight.
And what would you call glory after?
Could you give that name without tears
Or even being overcome by the weight of memory
Or even being overwhelmed by the emotion of thought
Such emotion you rarely let yourself feel because you are so afraid.
What if you weren’t afraid?
What if you knew that the only thing buried
In the dark was safety and stillness
What if today you had courage?
Courage enough to go back there
To go back and face him,