there are times—I wish I could be small again
holding tight to azure dreams of an old friend
a mind—that once reliably waited on my voice
in dark partitions of my steely—spinning fears
or cavernous canyons of my hollow heartaches
but with age—I rely on another secreted power
the singular ability to disappear in big crowds
to be irrelevant in loud—bloviating word choke

that is when I journey outside for a healing walk
to conquer the vast wilderness of my weary soul
I rematerialize under the gentle hand of my creator
who remedies hurts with morsels of light and love
I rediscover my lost trails along glimmers of faith
and emerge from masks of insignificance and fear
I find myself secreted in God’s flawless creation
baptized in graceful words of a friend who listens