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I needed to write this for my friends here at the Den. Words are never good enough. This will have to do.

Prayers lifted up to carry me, I
Have felt the touch of miracles
Through a blood-drenched haze
Of silent, down turned faces writ
With lines of worry making war
Against eyes of hope, faces that

Surrounded me, some unknown and
Others loved by a heart that had
Forgotten how to dance alone as it
Tried to keep time with its strange
New benefactor, a machine that sighed
Its intent with each shallow exhalation

Of breath I managed to take, IV bags
Suspended above like strange fruit whose
Roots pierced my wrists to deliver what
My mouth could no longer tolerate, there, yes
Right there as I lay silent but watchful, morphine
Pump clenched in one skeletal hand, lips split

Open from lack of moisture, body crying out
In blessed relief as a wet swab was pressed
Gently against them, sandpaper tongue catching
What drops it could like some tortured Golgotha
That knew little beyond its own eternal desolation
Yet remembering distant oceans from long, long ago

And the prayers continued as one day bled itself
Into another, another, another, with news finally
Arriving of a far off place, a Den of thoughts and
Ideals freely expressed, a place I had been to often
Before life made its sudden shift towards a door I
Thought could never open for me, yet had opened

Not just once but twice, its threshold that timeless
Mystery few seldom return from, having crossed
Beyond its darkened frame, and yet return I
Did, the miracle of prayer the only answer that
Could ever justify such a thing, the unwavering
Faith of family and friends lending power to

The existence of God, and to all of you here at
The Den who lent their faith to ours, to all of you
Who ever prayed for me, or wished me well, know
That I have felt the touch of miracles, have been
Lifted up beyond the reaches of that Door, at
Least until He sees fit to call me back, and know

That you have my gratitude, my thanks, my admiration.


END

“Miracle"