Spring reign


 
The warm spring rain persisted
Like the need for prayer, insisted I arise.
A call to care, regardless of the hour,
When time knows no limits,
And love requires me to listen!

Whose heart’s cry do I hear?
My own—involved, consumed?
Aware of the power, if I ask, for
The Father’s hand to reach down
And touch—bring healing, redeem, make new.

Whose heart do I hear?  The Father’s—
Broken, broken…
Splintered and crying over lost lives,
The enemy’s stealth and deception,
Muddling perception, leaving blind the sightful.

Whose heart would I hear?
His own—truthful, honest, facing the light
That reveals the pain, not concealing,
But paying the cost for a change.
Deciding that pretense makes no sense
When death brings the ultimate perspective.

How I pray that he would see the Father’s heart,
Broken open for him.
See the arms that welcome the wounded,
turn towards the light—
the light that brings comfort,
restoration, warmth.
The warmth and depth of His love,
love that sheds for him falling tears
like the persistent, quiet Spring rain
outside my door…

c Jody Lee Collins  2012

Sharing with the amazing folks in poetry land for Open Link night at dVerse pub.  Join us!

Comments

  1. I love your words. especially this"
    "A call to care, regardless of the hour,
    When time knows no limits,
    And love requires me to listen!"
    but more...I feel your heart in the words, thank you!

    ReplyDelete
  2. my hope is to have a heart that truly reflects that you know...to heed that call to care...and weep for the broken and be willing to do something about it...

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

65 is Just a Number

When Trees Speak

Silence Ascends, Sunday