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!