This poem was I thought accepted by a certain publication but never published by them so with a new decade I’ll let it be shared here.


A light pressure—
the semblance of a hand
rests upon a shoulder,
a presence more felt
than observed,
standing just behind
and on my left side,
perhaps in the pew
next row back.

A comfort,
an encouragement—
the warm weight of fingers
grazing my soul.

Solid truth,
the knowledge of never
being totally alone—
His physical form
unseen in my peripheral

The breath of His love
warms the outer
curvature of my ear,
finds a home,
a welcome in my heart.
I breathe the scent
of Him in.

c. Darlene Moore Berg


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