Praise for Losses Found

The vestiges of my days
are dreams,
a chasm of losses
caught in the shadows of the mind
like silences between the wind
and the cold darkness of winter.

Walk through the melting snow,
crisp and crunching under foot
as if this time I will not be left behind,
as if someone misses me at the end of the day
and fills the pilgrim light of the lamp,
so that I might find my way
with words and the vessel of my faith,
and I am welcomed into the warmth
of the communion of breath
and take to singing
these sustaining hymns of praise.