Poetry

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Today this hour I am weeping;
   in this moment, endless grieving.
All I see: the grayest skies,
   a bed of tears is where I lie.

Tomorrow is my day of hope;
   joy returns, that lifting rope.
Tomorrow comes with much promise,
   like the rain to fall upon us.
The Lord Himself will wipe my tears
   when I forget my well-known fears.
They fall away, an ancient wall;
   unhindered then, I'll hear His call.

Then He comes, to take me up;
   patiently, He's had enough.
He wants me there, by His side,
   that I may see my Abide.
I will know this Man of Sorrows,
   who made my Home of Endless Tomorrows.

So if you ask me where's my home,
   I'll say, “Not here; I only roam.”
As a promise from Him, I have this:
   my home's where Tomorrow Is.

© Bob Barra, 9-18-2012

"For His anger is but for a moment,
His favor is for life;
Weeping may endure for a night,
But joy comes in the morning." ~ Psalm 30:5

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