Sacred is the Hole Left Behind

The sacred ran and played
Camouflaged in ordinary
Laughter, and drama, and tears, and dreams, and hopes
Ah, the crushing hopes

We caught it often, didn’t we?
Thank God we can say as much
Though, often, we didn’t
We did our best, but sacred is winged, and fleet, and spirited in ways
We are not

The sacred ran and played
All around us
Growing up intertwined, vine-like
In us, oxygen to lungs, to soul
The very cells running through us until it ran us through

I saw a little girl this morning, maybe two or three. Fury of joy all bundled up. She let go of her father’s hand for just a moment turning to squint into the sun. She responded with a smile, and then a sneeze. I think she was unprepared for so much energy.

The sacred ran and played until it didn’t
Sacred is the hole left behind when it’s gone