#904 On The Blank Spaces in Prayer

At every prayer’s close there waits an empty space,
A line where one beloved name must go —
I write yours there, and try to draw your face,
Though what remains of it, I barely know.
The features blur; I reach for what I knew —
Only your eyes stay vivid, close and clear;
I wonder in the silence if I, too,
Still find a place in all you hold most dear.
Forgive me where I failed, as I forgive —
Though how the heart was shattered, I recall;
Today I gather up the shards and live,
And reassemble, odd-shaped pieces, all.
    Perhaps my fears have made a liar of me —
    And love endures, as steadfast as the sea.