Our eyes falling down to the ground,
Our hearts dry as the dust we trample.
A stranger joins our journey to despair.
Teasing out the details of what our hope had been,
He listens on and on until our grief can tell no more,
Only then can his words water our withered spirits.
Gently chiding, strongly guiding, weaving a story
Of glory hidden within fabled prophecies of faith.
Later will we recall how fiercely our hearts did burn.
But now it is our turn, the time to beg him to linger,
A request he can never refuse, for his very presence
Is sacred space, every home he visits his sanctuary.
For those who have eyes to see, his bread blessed,
Broken and shared -- so much more than merely a meal.
His visitation no longer confined to history.
This road we walked with him still beckons --
To journey back from where we once despaired,
Our hearts now open in hopeful recognition.
J. Michael Sparough, S. J., Hearttoheart.org, 2017
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