|
| |
The unspoken conversation
Pray for me, brother;
There are words stuck behind my tongue
That I have carried in my heart,
For life can tire the tongue—
Because our moments for words are few.
The world does not welcome words, brother.
I am weary of the heaviness in my eyes,
Though no fault has ever been yours,
Because I am the creator of my own path.
My tired spirit has wept an ocean—
An ocean in a desolate land with ripples,
Perhaps to guide me through Jordan's stream,
Or to lead me in a world of sin and care.
Dear brother, pray!
I am tired of many 'afters'—
I gaze at the stars with a bitter sigh.
I wish I could articulate my fear
Even with my trembling tongue,
Because when I hear, "God is love,"
It feels like a lie.
Copyright ©
Steve Anc
|
|