by

Carrie K. Hutchens

I walk tonight wondering why this day is no more than yesterday.  Where has the hope hidden upon the path so dark and lonely?  Is there anyone?  Is there anyone near?  Is there anyone to hear?  Do my tears touch the ears of any or do they fade into aloneness somewhere along the roughed trail of hopes forbidden and too often stolen?

I pause.

I search the shadows.

Nothing touches the moment in hope or chance of a tomorrow beyond what has ever been.

Silence calls out in a whisper not heard.

Sunlight fades into blinding darkness.

No birds sing.  No crickets dance.  It’s all as if the world has stopped with dreams no more as nightmares soar.

As I begin to sink into the failed moment of twisted thought and hope forever lost, a Whippoorwill calls out into the dusk to sing of the dawn to be.

The little Whippoorwill refuses to see the darkness and sings of all the wonders in the sky above, with twinkling stars to dance in delight and the moon to smile upon the night.

The path, no longer frozen in the isolation of despair, bids me follow the songs of the nightly choir.  The choir so often unheard, but always there to assure we are never truly alone or in a void untouched by a God ever present.

Darkness may engulf us and reek of vile intent at the hands of man, but it shall never do so at the hands of He who loves us and bids us hear the choir He created to comfort and lead to delight.  A choir to remind us — we are never truly alone and our tears are always heard!

(c) 2014 Carrie K. Hutchens
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