Notes About The Poem
Everything, in a life, is good.
A Day In a Life
I hear the wind blowing on this stormy day,
it makes me feel, peaceful, at ease, hungry for a nap,
watching the moss sway on giant oak limbs,
Ahhh Florida during a tropical storm...
it makes me feel so relaxed while others feel fear,
it's odd to me, their fears, their grasp on material things,
I am grateful it is foreign to me as I embrace my peace,
knowing peace, is Christ living inside me,
I have life, I have love, blessings to big to measure,
my call is greater than a paycheck or a new car,
it is reality, a simple testament, a human life;
Yet... all I can think of is the words you sent,
how they were words I longed to hear,
words of sweetness, happiness, words of a husband to a wife,
and how it made my heart beat, faster,
words so small, yet so big to my cautious mind and eager heart,
it plummets me, to years of hope, to the years of our lives...
to moments of sheer happiness and shattering pain,
I am happy, happy in the life I have,
happy sharing in something greater than my own selfish needs,
it is visions of hope and holding hands,
something as simple as holding hands, can change a life,
the electricity sends impulses, increasing our breathing,
it's the birth of something bigger than we can explain;
Yet... all I can think of is God's magnificent hands,
not deserving the little arms that hug my neck,
or the big blue eyes that watch me so closely,
raised two sons to get a daughter, with long red loose curls,
more joy, more love, more hope,
little fingers touching my arm, grasping my hand,
just another season in a short life,
a season within time, one not better than another,
all life, this life, merely a flash, a simple test;
The storm is growing, the low growls and rumbles,
peeking out a window, for a tornado, a falling limb,
a rush of electricity again, quiet excitement stirring within,
always that edge, that lingering question, "am I alive?",
it is peaceful, calm, refreshing,
the excitement of the storm...
wherever you are, whatever day it is, whichever hour,
in God's hands it is but an iota of time,
for Him it is a small sound an utterance of a word,
The wind is blowing again,
bending all, forcing it to bow to its power,
the rain pouring, seeping into every narrow opening,
again, I am feeling peaceful, at ease, in need of a restful nap,
always ready, always waiting, in the comfort of His mighty hand
Copyright © Karen Van Wyk | Year Posted 2012
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