Reach Out

Where there is gloom, look to the sky. A light shines just beyond the clouds.

Where there is brokenness, tools have been set aside to make repairs.

Where there is indifference, people of compassion will appear as if from nowhere.

Where there is grief, a place to grieve has been prepared.

And so, reach out. The thing you require is within your grasp.

And should you find faith, those who have lost it will seek you.

And if you find joy, friends will arrive to hear your story.

And if your spirit longs to dance, listen. In the distance, there is music.

And if you know love, look just around the corner. There is someone there who pines for it.

Around 2013, I was doing my driving job. I was praying a lot that day. Suddenly, as often happens, I had the urge to write. I had a moment to take a break so I parked the van and got out my notebook. What came out was something like what you see above. I couldn't believe what I was writing. There was something beautiful about it and I knew I was writing the truth. But how could it be the truth? I live in a cynical generation. I am cynical myself. And anyway, if it's true that good things happen for a reason, doesn't that mean the same for the bad things? For every time someone has appeared out of nowhere to help me, who has come to the aid of the broken-hearted and the downtrodden? Who was standing by when that child was struck by a fallen branch and died? Why are people so ill the world over? Why are people born and develop all kinds of disabilities and ailments over the course of their lives?

Meanwhile, my heart was open. I felt love pour into my soul and as often happens, I was racked by sobs. I didn't know how what I was writing was true. But I knew I had seen it in my own life and someone or something told me that I didn't have to doubt the words I found on my paper.


But, as had happened with so much of my work, after sharing it with a few people, I threw it away and deleted any remaining copy of it.


Thankfully, just two nights ago on Monday, March 5, 2018, I asked God during prayer if I could remember this poem. I cried because I don't know how to save my work and I don't know how to remember the beautiful things I have written. For whatever reason, I began to remember soon after. And this is what I wrote down. It isn't the same poem from years ago word by word but the spirit is intact. Thank you for reading. I hope it means something to you. I hope you can take it into your heart and believe it.