The path is dusty.
The sun warm on my face.
The air is redolent with the tang of olives.
He comes to me, barefoot;
Long robes swishing;
A smile on his face.
I am hesitant.
I have dissed his people a lot.
What word might he have for me?
“Be at peace. You are loved as you are.”

My eyes well up.
“Am I indeed loveable?”
“From the beginning and always.
You are a gift to yourself, a gift to the universe.”
“But the path has been so hard.
I’ve felt so alone and sad.”
“You have been disconnected

from your deepest self;
The place of connection to most Holy Mystery,”
“How do I connect?”

“Be still, listen to the silence.
Don’t depend on your feelings or your thoughts.
Listen for intuition’s wisdom.”
He grasps my hand and blesses me

by touching my heart.
Then he is gone.
The sense impression of him lingers.
I place a hand on my heart and weep.
I know not if it is joy or grief.
I am alone, again, but not lonely,