R E F L E C T I O N 

Lost in the Dark

I dropped my faith

in a dark room

and cannot find it. 

It slipped between 

my fingers 

and fell to the floor

just as sadness 

shut the light. 

I grope in the darkness, 

but come up 

empty handed.

Dark winter days have been a fitting backdrop for world news and personal stories. This week, I watched as the world mourned deaths an ocean away, and again, I watched as friends walked behind the casket of their son.

I searched for comfort outside my window as cold hardened the creme brulée snow. An apparition — my bunny — my Lumpy Bunny with the forever twisted leg, emerged from the brush and danced for me under the moon. Snow sparked as he kicked, leaping poetically with his broken leg, reminding me I must do the same.

The next day I open my shade to reveal a blur of fur. Lumpy Bunny, again. He had nestled under the bushes just below my window. Is he seeking protection from harsh winds...or is he protecting me? I keep checking back — brown eyes gaze into green. He sits in stillness for hours until the mailman forces him to disappear.

This morning I looked down to see Lumpy's foot prints along my back step. He has stayed close to me, this tragic bunny. I'm am grateful for his company. He has lit a candle in a dark room.