Safe Place

A place in-between harm and safety, 
after the rain and right before the sun shines again.
A place where I race the images before they are turned into permanent memories and I win.
A place where the wounds are to fresh for me to even know that they are there.
A safe place is the distance between two paralel lines of denial and grief.

Thinking about the babies out here, where the only safe place is their imagination.  I ask myself and God many times, what are we doing wrong.  Why so many thrown away and battered children.  He didn't give me a direct answer but he did say, "have you prayed for another soul today."  "Have you spoke prophetic words into the atmosphere on the behalf of someone else today?"  We forget the power of the spoken word, said out loud with a declarative voice, going to war.  The-tongue-is-a-sword.  Calling their names as if they were our own.  Have you ever heard a mother cry out for her child; there is something fierce and determined about it, that even God avails her request.

I know it is a heavy subject but it is here, all around us, in our homes, our schools, and... even... our... churches....