A Prayer For Survivors

It is a time for congenial chants, for keeping a reverent pace with the hymnal steps of the heart. The year lags behind us setting slowly now laden with all its bygone woes. The days are become processional, a folding of sacramental raiment’s strained with the fabric of isolation, hardship, and loss. Rituals are more important as the year declines, as nights lengthen and settle into rumor and whispered lore. It is a time to honor the sanctuary of flesh and faith, to lift cupped hands as chalice’s to sooth anxious eyes. Hold you now high the votive lights of hope cherish our child-like winter flowerings warmed in the sanctum of each quiet breath.