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Trifling irritations flourish
Into stumbling blocks of faith
For lack of time to nourish
With the sustenance I crave
So silently does starve the soul
The void is ripe for doubt
The partial miss becomes the whole
Forms within what lacks without
As carelessness sprouts into weeds
The trifle fills up space
The needs become untended seeds
‘Til empty yawns into my face
As this becomes the dawning way
I question:
Is God on holiday?
Questions nag, spirits flag
Disturbing dreams, ripping seams
Redouble efforts and turn the page
Search for something to assuage
And there I find
In my rising grief
A hope God’s holiday is brief
Settle, reconsider, seek
Food and wine once rejected
Replenish from the sifted deep
Revisit verses long neglected
Picking through the crumbs of scatter
Gathering fragments into a whole
Recovering the joys that matter
Once again sustains the soul
Search His word
Restore my sight
His easy yoke
His burden light
God is Holiday!
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