Midst Frustration
I loathe the grief of frustration torture
When my care-giving work is jeopardized
Bringing to naught my volunteered gesture
Of love’s motive, graciously optimized.
With faith in God, I then cling to His might
Confessing faults, admitting ignorance
Moving on toward stewardship triumph’s height
While defying self-pity’s dominance.
Thus, I conquer awful guilt of failure
Striving as champion midst persistence-bout
Vanquishing conveniences that allure
Prevailing over gross vanities’ clout.
For my servant’s heart and deeds’ full harvest
I trust God’s perfect judgment*, always best!
*2Thessalonians 1:5 Which is a manifest token of the righteous judgment of God, that ye may be counted worthy of the kingdom of God, for which ye also suffer.
August 31, 2018
8th place, "The I Of The Storm" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Maureen McGreavy; judged on 12/9/2018.
Copyright © Beata Agustin | Year Posted 2018
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