The jubilee that I thought this life would be,
is more often drudgery, a never-ending ache, stinging salty tears,
an albatross, when I had imagined my grown up days to be a dance.
Clinging to the Cross, I trace its rough textures, acutely
knowing what is there.
For I know my own failings to my core,
faith, my inner weaknesses, flaws and faults,
of wisdom, a crooked unforgiving heart, my lack
of love more frequent than not.
This life is bittersweet.
fearful heart is not sensing
and I ask, when does the splendor begin?
And then I hear the Holy One’s whisper:
I AM the Peace you seek.