When a Stranger Speaks Your Name

I’ll rest in this a while
Although I’m not sure what this is
A stranger passing spoke my name
Without ever saying a word

I find myself unable to move
Carrying a weight of a land that I never knew was home
My heartbeat is this rhythm
The beat of the rain on the roof over my head

There is a love here that took me away
A longing that aches for a return that is on its way
Could you ever know it?
Wake up and hear this song

These words slap you across the face
Yet gently tuck you into bed
Somewhere safe to lay your head
As you belong here

A welcoming with open arms
An unexpected arrival
A pasture to lay down in
Sectioned off fields of fairness

Floating through every step
As if a ghost lives inside of me
Maybe it’s time to start listening
When strangers call my name

Whispers of warmth tracing across the cracks in this cobblestone heart
Hearing angels pulling at the seams
Take off your coat and feel the mist
Be ready to experience a homecoming

You don’t have to know where you are
In order to know that this foreign land is your home
Your entire life you have been on holiday
Let the prodigal return

Ireland waited for you
Embraced you in her loving arms
Not ready to let you go
Hear her in the whispers of strangers



There’s a girl I know.  I see her most days, but she’s only a ghost of who she once was, and nowhere near who she could be.
She sometimes stares too long, allowing me to notice how puffy her eyes are from crying, even though that was hours ago.
She lost the light in her eyes; the sun no longer shines in their forest green hue.
Tomorrow is her birthday, and all she wants is death.

She needs some focus.  She needs to be noticed, but to call attention to herself?  That would be insulting, out of nature.
She knows a nice place up in the mountains.  She could drive there tomorrow and pray.
She could drive there tomorrow and jump.  She could fall.  She could get her birthday wish.

The ghost inside her knows she’ll never succeed.  Whatever she does, her wish will not come true.
The ones who care will only be there to catch her fall, but drop her when it’s no longer life threatening.
So her birthday is a secret.

There’s a girl I know.  She’s a ghost of who she once was.

I’ll tell her you’re listening next time she looks in the mirror.