Poetry

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Struck dumb with loss,
As I see the Lord before me;
He holds me at arms length,
And leaves me clutching the air;
I can do nothing but weep,
Howl at the misery of nothingness.

My assets are losses,
Strengths are weaknesses;
Knowledge has shown me for a fool,
Talent has left me blind.

And I am forced to reach out
To the One who should be my chief joy.

I crawl to the altar,
And set myself upon it;
I bare my throat,
And the brassy judgement
of His knife is near.

As my eyes are closed
I hear metal drop to the floor.

On the floor I see His knife,
And He beseeches me to stay,
Where I am,
On His altar.

I see blood upon me,
But not my own;
And I remember for Who I am.

Words in tears,
I remember my God;
And He has remembered His promise,
His Son, my Amen.

So my loss is my gain;
My sorrow, my joy.

He has made me undone,
Brought to nothing,
Leaving me standing with nothing but myself;
It is He and I,
And it is what He wants.

I can do nothing but submit...

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