Casarah Nance
For Casarah,
What if I were a poet who is forlorn,
Became bird sitting among each thorn;
Like Son of God one day I do suppose
In our hearts became a bleeding rose.
He now is God's son who has arisen
No longer here on earth in a prison
Christ in us all is quite a creation
Of joy, happiness and jubilation.
Jim Horn
Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2016
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