The Quietest of Hopes

Every journey ends,
and this prayer is for our friends
who know their lives are waning.
Friend of the dark garden,
you know the regrets,
the reluctance, the gloomy fears
that shake our very souls.
Anxiety about our bodies’ demise
consumes us,
Thank you that even
as we feel most desolate,
your comfort finds us.
We do not kneel alone.
Your deep love wells in parched hearts,
flooding us with simple beauty
at unexpected moments.
You send us angels,
disguised and undisguised;
courage blossoms in the night.
Thank you for bands of companions
whose prayers sustain us.
We pray for those who hover in the tension
of a life that is both
unbearably sweet
and sheddable.
At the end,
let our fingers be petals,
letting go, bit by bit,
our mortal life.
Our empty hands blooming;
open, ready,
pregnant with
the quietest of hopes.
Come Lord Jesus.