What lies behind corners can hurt or heal;
What lurks in this heart can wound or bless.
What triggers in mind can remind of the past;
What future is clean is unknown.
Whatever contaminates; whatever is sick;
Whatever is broken, whatever will break;
Whatever may lift and whatever may tarry:
God give, God take, God give.
What heartache or heartsong the year’s days can bring,
What closeness, what checking, what flinching, what kiss;
What cross and what glory; what angst-enclosed fist;
Whatever awaits in the darks of the year:
Lord, hold, hold, hold.
The Consolations of Writing 