Poetry

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© Bob Barra, 7-5-06

The tug for an unnamed face has returned;
That which cannot be requited
Has found its place in me again;

I’m shaken by its immensity, its depth;
It is caught within my spirit’s matrix,
And it screams when I am quiet and still;

This is too big for me, Lord,
And I do not ask You to satisfy it,
Or take it away,
But do with it as You will;

I will sit with this tug,
And wait for You;
It will not master me,
For that is Your place;

I will not be moved;
You alone are my Steadfastness;
I will wait for Your lovingkindness.

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