Poetry

A Song of Sorrow

Lament is a gift.  A place where we find sweet relief in tears.  When our tears subside we have that brief moment of looking up.  We take a breath in that holy place, where our trust is renewed in Him once again.

A Song of Sorrow

 I opened my eyes, I saw.

I cannot, I will not, unsee.

I see them…

Skin over small bones,

as parents, watch in helpless horror.

Women bleeding on a bales of hay,

believing their blood is a curse.

The persecuted, bound and tortured,

their lives taken, while silence reigns.

Bodies of babes, washed up on shores,

sand clings to fingers, that once circled a mother’s.

 

I turn my eyes away,  I look up.

 

I cry to God and heaven,

as my song of sorrow soars.

I feel the light on my face,

and the darkness at my back.

 

In the stillness he is near.

In the stillness I trust.

In the stillness I look down.

 

There, I see my hands, my feet.

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