Hope

'Twas not his death that caused my aching pain,
although it tore my heart in twain,
but rather separation from the one I love
that drove the wedge deep in my heart.

'Tis not the separation from the one I love
that keeps my heart so spilt in twain,
but mere uncertainty of reunion blest
that twists the wedge jammed in my heart.

For ev'ry day I happ'ly leave the ones I love
assured I'll see them at day's end.
No pain is felt, although our paths diverge,
for hope's the salve that heals this wound.

But as one stares across the black abyss,
one's hope is simply hard to find.
One wants assurances that life goes on,
not hope, but proof is never found.

Each one who stares across the black abyss
must find the hope to carry on.
Each one must search in his own way, alone,
for hope's the salve that heals this wound.

Hope can be found inside an empty tomb
for those who'll take pure hope:
There is no proof that Jesus rose, just hope,
and hope's the salve that heals this wound.

©James Garner 23 Nov 2006