Poetry

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© Bob Barra, 9-12-06

Her heart was broken,
Felt misbegotten;
Her mouth was dry,
As if full of cotton;
Pain of the sins
From many others
Birthed cynicism,
Even from ‘brothers’;

Was this to be
Her stricken lot;
Where her foot
Would be caught?

The Light awaits
To come in,
For this Light
Also bore sin;
It is the Light
By which she’s here;
Who gave her life,
And desires her cheer;

This Light weeps;
It mourns with her;
This Light ne’er sleeps;
Removes the blur;

The Light is not cold,
But warm; sympathetic;
It is her High Priest,
Heaven’s sole Aesthetic;
The Light wrapped in skin,
Came before her birth;
Saved her from her sin,
Granting eternal mirth;

And so this Light
Holds; keeps her aloft;
Filters what comes her way;
The Spirit, gentle; soft;
He is her undoing,
Much to her great joy;
His plans for her still brewing,
Protects her from dark ploy;

Bringing sense to all her pain
And gives her great delight,
For she is His focused aim,
With love of divine might;
Her life is seen as His great work,
With all its woe and strife;
Behind her pain, He still lurks,
And heals by sacrifice;

And when the Dawn is risen
In her heart of woe;
He'll be the reason her face glistens,
For she’s in heaven’s glow!



For Melissa S.

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