A hand passed over the waters
calling forth from the firmament that
which was beautiful and altogether lovely;
the trodden clay, the broken silence,
the unclean woman, the dying mother,
a suspended moment of defeat;
the common event of man’s grueling passage.
Upon the path of time
never perceived in joyful rapture
he finds his soul in the grasp of a friend
toying with all that was good and shattered
yet placing the critical pieces of his existence
intertwined with his own by happenstance,
unknown to either voyager.
Why God allowed for these two
magnificent oaks to stand alongside
the beaten road and grow
confronting the other in mid-stretch
and parting after brief conversation
one will never know except for
the strength provided within
the common event of man’s grueling passage.
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