Poetry

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My heart is not lifted,
My eyes have not been raised high;
As I drink milk from my cup,
I cannot answer the why.

For I do not occupy,
Myself anything too great;
Too grand for me to defy,
I wish not to hesitate.

I had to calm down my soul,
That is weaned from its mother;
Like a child to control,
The actions of another.

For the hope is in the Lord,
This time forth and forever;
Letting Him not be ignored,
Israel, He won’t sever.

Copyright ©2023 Richard Newton Sherrer

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