Finches

cherylyn-ang-1633066-unsplashWhen Jesse died

You visited me with goldfinches

“I’m here.”

With each colorful flutter of wings,

evidence–I was seen.

In the years since

When I’d see their tiny yellow frames

I’d take it as proof, surety.

You were with me.

But I saw with greater frequency

Plain, tawny, common finches—

Which I’d dismiss with disappointment,

hoping instead I’d see Your reminder again,

“I see.”

Today, another lackluster finch

followed me on my walk,

flitting from tree to tree,

always next to me.

And as music played through headphones in my ears

a soundtrack only I could hear rang out:

You don’t have to reach for me, ‘cause this is where I am.

I realized:

What if all the while,

this whole time,

You were right here?

You were still visiting

in those simple brown wings.

What if You were saying

You are with me always.

Surrounding.

Everywhere,

in everything.

You don’t withhold Your presence for

the appearance of brighter things.

One thought on “Finches

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