He Walks

He walks

He knows not where

But, he holds the fear

The load he carries is dear

The shards of glass

So precious to him

Some glitter and are smooth

The others dig into his skin

But, all hold their value

So he walks with them 

The good and the bad from everyday within

His grace is felt

The day grows dim

His walk becomes a swim

And, then he reaches through the veil

Countless faces smiling back at him

Ones that he has missed for so... long

And feels and embraces them all

Then the wait --

It starts again

He waits for those

He cannot feel or touch

Thosewho he longs for patiently and lovingly

He waits ---

For those who miss his face.

                                              ~ Christine Brandon