“To a Missionary,” New Era, Oct. 1978, 50
What are you given, that gnawing,
That dull ache of empty remembering
Some folds of a foggy light that once
It makes you reach again to feel your hand close
on empty earth air …
Somewhere was a voice once, whispering
A plea, translated now to Call
With voice of fire in your heart
Gives birth to hope, and with your
Empty fingers, touch a warm again.
And like the Christ, you seek
His sheep you both now love.