I have wept by my friend for an afternoon
that feels like a week,
lost in dark rain.
Where's the love
that fashioned these fabrics,
these shirts and coats and robes?
There's a calm confidence
in this man's arrival,
but can he really help?
Can he recover the love,
make a lifeless body breathe again?
What's this strength I feel—this warmth—
as he tenderly ushers us from Tabitha's room?
Right in the clamor of wailing
a kind of silence stirs—
a gust of fresh hope,
some quiet power glowing through the dusk.
Now, in an open door, I see
Tabitha alive!
Her moist, brown eyes
full of light.
All the hope I've ever known
is alive here now.
The silence grows like the love
that lives in us all.
We hold each other,
cradling so much joy like a newborn life.
Tabitha, we live forever in this love.
