Somewhere Someone is Holding Hope

“Deep down, people seem glad to know that monks are praying, that poets are writing poems. This is what others want and expect of us, because if we do our jobs right, we will express things others may feel, or know, but can’t or won’t say.” —Kathleen Norris, The Cloister Walk

Somewhere out there, someone is praying.

Someone is praying for you because you are part of the world. Someone is thinking of you because you belong to the human race, soul and body and spirit.

Someone out there, be it monk or priest or mother or child, someone is praying. Every minute of every day, someone somewhere is lifting prayers to the heavens.

Poets, too, are writing poems. They’re searching for something beautiful and true to pin to the page. They look where you can’t look, see what you wish you could. Something bubbles up to the surface and, thank goodness, they capture it.

When the days are long or short, when we’re finally adjusting to things or still muddling through, wherever we are and whatever we’re doing, somewhere else is someone holding space for the things we struggle to hold.

Some might call them intercessors, for the word intercede means to intervene on behalf of another. At one time or another, we need intervention. We need someone to have our backs and pick up the slack. We need someone to fill in the gaps we can’t fill ourselves.

We need help.

We need hope.

In equal measure, we need these things. And whether that’s now or not now, it doesn’t matter. Somewhere out there, someone is praying. Someone is writing a poem. Someone is holding hope for all the people who can’t hold it for themselves.

Maybe that someone can be me.