Ghosts

All those thoughts we ache to speak

But cannot find the air to shape

Their vaunt expressing hope and need

And sad regret for past mistakes

Swell in a sigh, a groan, a tear

But still the night and miles expand

Into the weeping atmosphere

Drifting like ghosts without command

While we refuse to speak farewell

Where time does not absolve the hurt

Of letting go or holding on

With tears we stain the listless dirt

As the ineptness of this dance

Cannot console our wordless thought

But simply offers us the chance

To cling to hope and trust in God

© Janet Martin

For those sorrows that will never find words…

Someday perhaps its melody

will softly be unchained

We hold what we are given

and trust God for the unexplained.

J~