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October 4, 2013

Awake in the wee hours, sleep deprived by pain,
I wrap around aching shoulders, a teal and tan shawl
Knitted by caring hands,
Each stitch an intercession,
Petitions of blessing woven in yarn.

Enfolding a tortured frame in comforting warmth,
Soft threads become a soothing touch.
“Be still my soul.”
“Be still and know that I am God.”
Still and silent, gratitude overflows.

Thanksgiving becomes supplication
For family and friends,
For insomniacs, fellow pilgrims of the night.
Prayers answered, grace descends,
The healing peace of sleep returns.

Kirk H. Neely

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