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 © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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Daniel Avatar
June 6, 2016 at 4:10 AM
Well written, Juaneco:)
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