Imago Dei
If leaden skies above you, responsive
As brass, are mocking your anguish’d heart cries,
Repulsing all resolution efforts;
Your angels holiday, while Father God
Seems distracted -- higher priorities
Eclipsing yours – Would this be the reason
You sit stranded on this park bench broken
Beside the path you once sojourn’d upon?
I know that He sent me to offer hope.
A savior I’m not, nor healing savant,
But a compassionate heart, listening
Ear, called alongside to steady your
Steps. Take my hand, walk with me, discover
His Invitatio to Gratia.
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