In the dark night of my soul
I long for someone’s comfort and no one comes.
There is no one to call.
I imagine Jesus in the Garden praying
Until sweat became blood
And even the disciples would not wake.
This night is my garden.
When will help come?
Where is grace?
Will I be able to take one more step?
The dark night passes and no one came.
Or, perhaps Christ was here all along
Leading me into the dawn.
— Naomi Faw
Alive Now, March/April 2012
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