Here - Poem

Here

I smoke with a priest.
We are outside church talking
about Your mysteries and grace.

Remember that cigarette I had,
next to that moonlit pond?
We were talking about redemption.

In between drags, I prayed:
"Make sense of my life.
Help me to find hope."

With the extinguishing of sparks
in the earth, You gave
the ashes a new meaning.
   
 "Here is where hope is.
Here is where resurrection happens.
Here is where love grows.

Here, things can begin again
in places hidden and unseen.
So stay Here. And trust."

Eleven years later, I smile.
I want to thank You,
You see. For being There.

I don't smoke much anymore.
But when I do, I remember 
what that night felt like.

You were right. Here matters.
The priest laughs with me.
I breathe in, breathe out.

"Thank You for this moment,"
I silently pray and think.
"And thank You for Here." 

(The picture is the actual pond where this prayer took place. I came across it in old journals. I remember being almost drowned in an overwhelming sense of love and suddenly wanting to pay attention to that moment. The rest wrote itself.)