Washed With Tears
There were tears on my face as I
sat with back to you on the boat,
my soul writhing in anguish,
burning pain rising in my throat.
Who wants to fish away from home
when she just laid her little boy
beneath the dank, dark, heavy ground?
No fish of size would bring me joy
should it attack my tempting bait.
You did not understand, though you
loved each of us--both him and me;
he was not flesh of your flesh. True
it is, I was angry...angry
at you for wanting me to go.
You thought this trip would do me good,
but fishing is your thing, you know.
There were burning tears on my face,
as I sat trying to forgive you;
God helped me and for love I did,
the love that gives all lives value.
No bitterness can be allowed
to cause his memory to dim.
Those tears have wafted on the wind,
blending with love to write a hymn
that sings in sunshine or in rain,
across the miles, across the years:
I find forgiveness easier
since my sad heart was washed by tears.
Copyright, Faye Lanham Gibson
May 21, 2014
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