Looking in at a lamplit room.
Breathing the crisp smoky air of an autumn day.
Needing someone to hug you.
Wondering when it will get better.
Hearing the first few notes of Serenade for Strings.
Wishing you knew how to help the person you love.
Gazing at a fire burning low.
Lifting your eyes to a Cross.
O Lord, how long shall I cry for help,
and you will not hear?
Or cry to you “Violence!”
and you will not save?