I have been the hidden mourner
Crying in a room
Sound waves of life and laughter from other rooms
breaking the wet silence
I wonder how many others there are?
Do they bear their pain in public till solitude gives bravery a break and lets them drop the broken pieces they were straining to hold together?
Oh how many?
Do I pass them in my wanderings?
Could I speak a kind word that tells them they are loved?
That Another loves them far more?
How often has the sympathy of others
(their understanding smiles, their simple words of kindness, their silent embraces)
been the hands and feet of my blessed Jesus to me?
The sunshine that makes my faith bloom
its roots well watered with tears
Let’s all be that sunshine
Reminding each other of the Maker of joy and light