We all know one another,
or claim to be good friends,
though it’s rare to speak beyond our pleasantries.
We have our obligations
and urgent expectations;
commitments to our precious families.
Our kinship draws us here,
or perhaps a longing does;
a desire to see behind the veils we’re wearing.
So on this afternoon
on the twenty-sixth of June
we risk our very selves with honest sharing.
We’ve claimed a private corner,
or at least a distant one.
We’re unaware of others that surround us.
How many times this year
have I failed to see your tears?
I must admit that to your pain I was oblivious.
How can I claim to know you,
or even claim to care?
The question stirs a haunting deep inside.
God reigns, I do believe;
yet inwardly I grieve,
wondering how I could have helped if I had tried.
And soon, before I know it,
or take the time to think,
my own fickle façade has crumbled, too.
My frailties have been told,
at the risk of seeming bold.
Perhaps knowing my flaws will strengthen you.
Someone suggests we hold hands
or bow our heads to pray.
Into His mighty hands our cares are laid.
We came simply as friends.
We’re sisters in the end,
When the roll and coffee bill is finally paid.
Returning to our duties,
or to our separate ways,
our bonds are stronger than they were before.
The fellowship was sweet
and honest and complete.
We’ll gather soon to share and talk some more.
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
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