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My wish for you
is a homecoming in this life.
A coming in out of the cold;
a drying off the icy rain’s touch.
In the holy reliquary
of childhood memory
may you find there the unshakable truth
of your preciousness.
May you remember the cool and padded graces
of your wet feet against stone.
In the middle of a long night,
a single burning light
serving as your peace,
may you fold back the pocket
holding you slights,
your jilted times,
your feelings of betrayal,
and discover small diamonds there,
created from crushed coal
of your hates and rage.
May you taste resurrection
without the need of dying for it.

- From Building Fences in High Winds: Poems of Longing, Frank MacEowen.