Stealth graces

Where words are too clumsy to go,

prayers move secretly

like ninjas

over barbed wire fences,

past guard dogs of broken hearts,

around locked doors of raw vulnerability

into tiny windows of hope that

were left open a smidgen,

almost sarcastically:

as if angels are going to save me from

this grim reality.

I know the truth.

There’s no such thing as an unreachable heart.

Where words can’t travel, God

delivers grace like pizza,

nourishing souls

who don’t even realize

how hungry they are.

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