Monday, April 30, 2012

Cloudy Days

How is it Father,
that the spirit
is so easily bruised?
A harsh word,
a critical eye,
a meaning misconstrued;
the sun disappears
behind a leaden sky,
and nothing is
as it should be;
the inclination is
to wrap the heart
in self-protective shell
and take a vow
of solitude.

How is it Father,
that You will not
let us go?
Love gently, persistently
peels back the shell.
Truth slowly disperses
the clouds,
light making its
way into the
dark places;

And grace -
grace will sit
and wait.