I sit outside the rest home, this Sunday afternoon.
I watch the face of people, going in and out so soon.
The visits here, come and gone. Time swiftly passes on.
The sadness shows on each face for the one which they belong.
The mother walks with her child, quietly through the door
To see a grandpa not coming home, for many days or more.
They sit and wait so patiently for their short time to be
For twenty minutes on the phone, their “papa” they will see.
So close are they but yet so far, no touching through the pane.
Fingers spread, hearts are breaking, their future down the drain.
The question on the little lips, will papa come home now?
Soon, we hope, my dear child, maybe next week, somehow.
The children come to visit him, with thoughts of shattered dreams.
The joys they had for many years, are gone, so it seems.
They put on a smile, push back fears, to keep alive some hope.
They wonder “why, what went wrong, how will we ever cope?”
The pain inflected, bad decisions, when the virus had taken hold.
Ruined lives of those around them, the broken promise told.
His family grieves the senselessness, of life’s potential lost.
Hope now seems a fleeting dream, the family pays the cost.
A broken life, a shattered dream, seems lost in the eyes of man.
When darkness falls, and hope is gone, when all has hit the fan.
God can mend the broken life, He turns darkness into light.
Hope comes to those, who ask through grace and all of mercy’s might.
We come to Him with hopes and fears not knowing where to start.
In life and death, Peace can come, carried in our heart.
Someday, somehow, we come as one, together we shall be,
Where over all of life and Faith and Hope we’ll see....
© 12-16-2020 John Stevens