The Repository Poem by James Tipp

Secrets long held are poured into your ear
You are the repository of guilt and anxiety
Of pain and disillusionment suffered in secret.
You are the confirmer of love and joy
Brought in to join and celebrate new beginnings
You are the conveyor of truth and hope
In the passing of friends and ones held dear.
You are the teacher called to be the leader
You are ever there and ever ready to listen
That is their expectation their need, their hope.
This is your vocation, your calling, your role.
You look into the mirror puzzled and perplexed
For you see only a fragile broken image
Whose knowledge is less than adequate
Unable to meet your own dreams or desires
The place of those called is a lonely place
In the night-watch bearing your load
You feel lonelier still and more empty.