Long Forgivenessgod Poems
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I would like to spill,
What is harbored in my soul.
I would like to say,
Things that no one really knows.
·
I’d apologize to you,
In a measurement beyond the stars.
For not being there with you,
Has left my soul this scar.
·
I’m reminded of the heartache,
From that dreadful day.
Of an ordinary time,
When God took you away.
·
I would’ve quickly taken,
The fate that you have faced.
Than to see your children suffer,
Savoring sorrows aftertaste.
·
If I had straps on my shoulders,
Attached to an antique plow.
You’d see deep ruts in the earth,
From the weight I carry now.
·
I’m harvesting my burdens,
In my open fields of pain.
In the drought of happiness,
Awaiting a smiling rain.
·
I’ve cultivated memories,
From the 3 years you’ve been gone.
Laying on glistening blades of grass,
That I cried on sorrow’s lawn.
·
I reminisce on the tears,
That only my heart knows.
Waiting for bouquets of smiles,
From the seeds I just now sowed.
·
I’m sorry you faced such madness,
Without me along your side.
And things could have been better,
Perhaps you would have survived.
·
I’m sorry I didn’t call you,
To distract your vivid mind.
But I replay those what if’s,
All the freakin’ time.
·
No one knows my heartache,
Of not biding my goodbye.
These are things I’ve harbored,
Way down, deep inside.
·
It feels like you’d still be here,
If I’d used my earthly power.
I’m sorry for not distracting you,
From your darkest hour.
·
This is a poem I had to write,
To regain my inner control.
And release my encumbers,
To unburden my soul.
·
You will always be my best friend,
A notion I’ll never condone.
You know I’ll await your answer,
When God calls me home.
_________________________
For Christie and Sharon's
"I'm Sorry" Contest
The crimson sun was slowly settling in the west.
A soldier lay on the battlefield nearing the end of life's quest.
Left to die a lonely death upon the recent field of strife,
Thoughts of home consumed him as he approached eternal life.
A padre was searching across that sacred, ravaged ground,
To see if a breath of life among the fallen could be found.
He heard a faint whisper, "Padre, come, talk with me, hold my hand,
Ere I am borne by the angels toward that golden strand!"
The padre held the Yankee's hand and clasped him to his breast.
"You did your best - God will crown you with a regal crest.
Take comfort knowing your sacrifice will not have been in vain.
Because of you, this nation will be united in brotherhood again!"
"The slain man lying next to me is also my mother's son.
Oh, padre, will God forgive me for the awful deed I've done?
I chose to struggle for the North, his allegiance was to the South.
Brother, I love and forgive you, were the last words from his mouth!"
"God understands and will forgive, fear you not, my son.
In the heat of battle, deeds occur that cannot be undone."
"Thank you, padre. Please read to me the Twenty-third Psalm,
That I may begin my eternal journey with reassuring calm."
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)