Disappointments
There is a cold and aimless fear
that grips our longing and aim—
like the talons of a hankered fowl,
readying itself to the plunge
of some inevitable sorrow…
The fear becomes a burning hurt—
one that is forgotten,
soon to be curled up and cold—
needing space and length to stretch
full bodied and shamed…
In the far-catching eyes of its skill,
it sees no goal—
only deadly possibilities
and drowsing hopes.
How can one write of such despair?
Humans cry out endlessly in the night,
forgetting that the day brings life,
and all breathe a newfangled breath
to conjure—
to capture—
hope beyond death!
How can they be fathomed?
these deep ends –
bubbling to begin,
stirring the earth
with fettered shame again?
Let their fears have aim toward the sky,
to the One who is the epitome of joy!
For in all the disappointments of this world,
every fowl thing will see its end,
every tear shall prove shameless,
And every fear only a dream,
A nightmare of weeping—
waking up eagerly to a love-filled day,
where all the previous cries of the night
have passed away
and warm, precious breath of gladness
eternally replacing the gray!
10/22/2019 - 10/25/2019
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