Catherine J. Broussard Poet Lyric

His Hand

At the moment of distemper;
HE places HIS Hand firmly on my shoulders.
Calming all, not letting go until I am whole.
HIS mercy carries me through all;
all which I could not endure.
All that have gripped me; all that I could not see.
HE stood before me; in the mist of all storms.
When I was wronged; HE lifted my heavy burdens;
placed HIS light into this weaken soul.
Who am I without HIM?
An uncertainty, I wish never to know.

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Lewis Raynes February 4, 2018 at 9:41 PM you are what you choose to be, by the grace

Lunita Blanca February 4, 2018 at 11:58 AM Catherine, Religion is not an excape from life; it is life.