Comfort girl myself

I rifle through the postcards from

The places you have been 

Looking for things you loved

Always people, always broken 

Then strain to hear your voice 

As you tell them about the Luke 13 people

All dead, all tragic until you

direct our eyes into the deep

Pool of Siloam, reflected the tower before it fell?

Did the blind man know it was there before he could

See you standing there

Across the street from all my loneliness

Beckon me come close

Brace yourself, Love