Poetry

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© Bob Barra, 1-17-06

Take away my sight;
The use of my hands;
Be to me what is right;
What faithfully stands;

Take away hope;
My reason of heart;
Just leave me a golden rope,
By which I'll depart.

The strain of this life,
Has me in such a hold;
About to lose my sight;
About to grow so old;

Fluttering, fluttering; fall away,
Fearing with a shaking heart;
Stuttering, stuttering, I just can’t say;
Just take me to the start;

All my hope I bank on this:
With the One who holds my breath;
Even when my life’s of remiss,
And I smell the stench of death;

But for me comes a time,
Where time has no hold;
Where I’ll find my Father Rhyme,
With the heat for life’s cold;

Then I remember eternal love
That saves me from the timeless Spit;
I recall being borne from above,
As my Father would have it;

Gentle reason calls
A mortal senseless heart;
It’s Source within holy walls,
With a love that ne’er parts;

O, dear unchanging One,
Move, now that I’m still;
Send to me Your righteous Son,
For my heart’s so ill;

Send to me eternal Grace,
My Help in time of need;
Help me, Lord, complete this race;
Heal this broken reed;

So, for now, I wait for You,
My precious jar o’ Alabaster;
I wait again to see You true;
To rejoice that You’re the Master!

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