With a tremor of its wafer wing,
They say, a butterfly in Beijing
Can, in time, spin a tornado
across the Kansas plain,
Or hurl a tidal wave booming
Into Carolina’s tranquil bays.
So, what then of a kiss for the dying,
An embrace for the untouched,
Or a tenderness to the crushed?
What of a whisper of grace,
A word of love unfurled,
Or a door to truth flung wide?
Will not these unwind the twisted heart
And still the waves of endless whys?
Is this not the fountain spray
That soars through time
And splashes eternity
In our eyes?
Whispers of Grace by Mark Greene
(With thanks to Ian Coffey’s Blog for the text of this poem, which I had been looking for since my time at LICC, but was unable to find, even on Google!)