by Joela Diaz

We wander together in the wilderness.
Fog approaches,
And I ask where we are going.
You squeeze my hand and say nothing.
The fog grows thicker still,
And the whispers in my mind grow louder,
Wondering if you know what You're doing.
Each day I ask,
“Where are we going?”
And each day 
Your reply is the same—
Restless, I try to be still in the
But I wonder if I've upset You
And pushed You away.
Hearing my thoughts,
You stop walking,
Put Your hand on my shoulder and whisper,
“You don't have to fear the 
There is peace even in the quiet,
For I am here.”
Though we wander,
I wander content
As Your hand rests over mine.

Joela Diaz is a graduate of William Paterson University and lives in Bedminster, NJ. She seeks to write prose and songs for the weary heart.

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