Offering odds you dare not meet,
Cold your breath in whispered prayer,
And old the faith which gets you there,
It will get you there.
And many beloved, and many friends,
Hearts well up as prayers ascend,
To warm the chill within your spine,
In hopes to share, the bread, the wine,
Broken bread, poured wine.
These prayers flow in a holy tide,
With you our friends they will abide,
That sweet healing be upon the wind,
That Ann's sweet families will mend,
That you all will mend.
And though parted with long goodbyes,
The gleam of tears within our eyes,
We grieve in hope but grieve we do,
And love, and walk, and pain with you,
Our beloved friends.
The broken bread, the poured wine,
And a Grace-Prayer be the signs,
To Adam, to Ingrid, and to you,
Of the fellowship that's ever new,
And renewed.
Amen.
____
Written for my friends, when I learned she was in a bad accident. Written primarily for him, who sat by her bed upheld by the prayers of many. I updated this once she had passed away some weeks later.
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