Water in vain tries to take hold of sand.
The ocean foolishly tries to claim the land.
“Come back to me.” he says to her,
The ocean to the shore.
“A little while longer.”
She answers in reply.
“When our mother in her great blanket,
Warms above: the skies,
Then we shall be much closer,
Our love. You and I.”.
Posted in Nature
Tagged blanket, closer, earth, hold, land, mother, ovean, poem, poetry, sand, shore, skies, sky, warm, water
The old, too tired to dig the graves
Required by their sons they couldn’t save.
Left behind instead of leaving,
There is a sorrow first conceiving
Anger, and then the bitter taste
Of youths absence, such a waste.
We’re left to linger, this should not be!
This day was meant for younger eyes than me!
In this evening there are no words.
In this moment the past and future confer,
And those who remain will be loved a little more,
We’ll hold them closer than we ever did before.
This was written in dedication to my friend who recently lost her youngest son. I’ve seen too many children buried by their parents in my time and it’s always a tragedy and never easier to deal with.
Posted in Life and death
Tagged bury, children, death, grave, hold, life, linger, love, old, parent, poetry, sorrow, waste, youth
Oh! For the arms that hold me!
For the hands that pick me up!
For my shelter, my strength,
For unending faithfulness,
For fathomless love,
For eternal mercy that comes from above!
Each and every day there is only one that I owe.
With every breath to Him I become more in debt.
And on the day when I’m finally home,
Shedding light on the secrets from the shadows finally crept,
Infinite forgiveness washes over me,
Unmakes them all, sin ceases to be.
Oh! For the price that bought this soul!
I can never repay, but this gift I can recieve.
Oh! For the day when I’ve come home.
Posted in Personal
Tagged arms, breath, debt, forgive, gift, hands, hold, home, Jesus, love, mercy, poetry, sin
All that suffers
In such a time.
There’s left to us no buffer,
Where we are confined.
He that hungers,
Is of the never slumbers,
And the pain in which he cries.
We’re to hold
Those since disowned.
Our hearts to keep them from the cold,
Our arms to keep them, believe them,
All that suffers is not home.
The broken heart she has long carried,
Day by day it’s always varied.
She searches only to numb a thing,
And does nothing to prevent it from crumbling.
Gazing at the sunrise now becoming sunset,
She’s got no thought of the future he’d bet.
With her long hair draped over one shoulder,
He can’t help but think how much he wants to hold her.
And as she stands there so close, but so far away,
He tries to work up the courage to say:
“Let me protect you from the dark,
And from your broken heart I’ll not depart.”
Posted in Love
Tagged heart, hold, love, poetry