Uncertain and unruly, awkward, weird,
this age of “great awakening” often feels
not great, or like awakening much at all.
Its daily tumults often make us crave
a simpler time to which we can return,
like a hectic morning rousing cravings
for the quiet bed still warm from our repose.
That is why a person who provides
a teaching, healing, gentle hand to hold,
is no mere chaplain cheering on the troops
of revolution’s madness and rebirth.
No, such a friend is found to fight among
our most awarded warriors, generals, heroes.
She will be the hope who helps you steel yourself
to face, to brave another battle’s day.
He will be the voice who sings you peace
against your pillow as you pause the sad review
of wandering ’round the hellscape you now see.
We need these not because they are our prophets,
but because they free the prophets in our minds.
May we who’ve been awakened seek to learn
the things we need to know to be such friends,
or seek one out and dearly, dearly cling
to hand, to arm, to heart until we can.