Poetry

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© Bob Barra, 7-19-07

Learning to be seen as strange,
An off-scouring of society;
A common plight: to seem deranged,
With silence from the Almighty;
My mouth moves; my pen writes;
Falls into grooves, but out of sight;

Learning to be misunderstood;
No one else completely sees;
But then I remember, no one could;
My only friend has been the breeze;
This sad state seems to have a Name;
My life a namesake of greater fame;

Then I see, and know One better;
The One I read in my Soul’s Book;
His fragrance comes through every letter,
And draws me in with loving hook;
And then it seems, I’m almost home;
A truth that seems to warm these bones;

So I remember Who I am for,
Thus my heart has lost its chore.


"They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world."-Jn. 17:16

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