There’s a hole in my road.
Not the whole road,
But a whole hole still.
The flimsy fencing, there
To prevent me from falling in,
Is wholly inadequate for
Such a hole.
As I peer into it I see the
Whole problem for which
The hole exists – some
Vital arteries for gas (I think),
Long left to decay and become
Unstable and unsafe – and
See in that exposed moment
That both the hidden pipes
And the (now) vacant hole
Are a risk of danger to me.
Wholly seen the hole now
Becomes the holy ground
On which my whole being
Stands, ready to be have
The deep, broken parts
Renewed, and the absent
Spaces filled by a Holy
Presence who will make
The hole in my road whole.