Rest Well

There’s a storm on your mountain, 

You struggle to see, to climb, to find sense.  

From my place near my peak, 

I know what you feel: 

sadness, confusion, the deep pull from below. 

We face mountains of different shapes, 

it is true, 

But the Climb is the Climb

And I want to help you through. 

Let me throw you a rope bridge, the sturdiest kind, 

We’ll meet in the middle of your mountain and mine. 

I have stories of storms, and a blanket to share. 

You can rest for a while, dangle your feet in the air. 

And when we are finished, 

lean your head on my shoulder for this final blessing: 

The mountains are wild. The storms will rage. 

But He has us here. Rest well, dear heart.

Rest well. 

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