My Lord, My Brother
When I walk into an empty church
I hear the whispers grow,
so many smiles, so many tears
so much for me to know--
yet gentle hands touch my face
enshrining me with a gift of peace
a Lord who grants me such release.
When I run up to my Brother,
I feel alive and well again
as He listens through divine love ,
to take away my pain--
that everything explained to me
brings out a sunshine of a smile,
for my Lord is within,all the while.
Anthony Slausen Contest: Jesus
6 June 1016
Copyright © Juaneco Torrente | Year Posted 2016
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment