Though the window blinds resemble iron bars,
though the walls seem hard and high as stone--
I know I'm not alone, in this place
where each aged face vacantly resembles
a door that only opens inwardly,
admitting guilt ridden visitors
biding time, sitting with
the lucid ones,
know that given grace,
the freedom that I seek
will find me once again
and move me.
I will be
a person with a face,
a name, and hope.
Just now though, I
am locked tight into this crypt alone,
my gaze fixed out the window on the sky
high above the garden,
calling out a screaming, silent plea.
"Hide the fading colors,
reminders of life past
I saw a hummingbird there yesterday,
dashing from one dry flower to another,
testing the same empty feeder
time and time
Some cruel gardener hung it there
abandoned to the humid summer air.
Poor bird, I feel
and his pain.
I am that hummingbird.
from one thing to another,
seeking solace in colorful distraction,
returning to the Word, hungering for
food to feed my soul.
I know it's not my Father who is absent.
It's me whose focus drifts from here to there,
the emptiness of self pity clinging
as a noxious fume to stagnant air.
Oh, but He is so gracious to the heart of me.
Above, beyond and all around
His presence bids the darkness flee...
I cannot hide from Him. And He,
this awesome God, will not let me go.
Oh yes, I know His face
I see Him in the sky
above the treetops
And now I see Him
in the fading flowers below
PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR,
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE Read more articles by Roberta Franklin or search for other articles by topic below.
Roberta - I cannot adequately describe what your poetry does to this reader, how it grabs me, draws me in with your graphic word pictures and your heart.
Please share more with your readers. And let us know when the book will be published as I would surely sign up to buy one!