Thursday, April 19, 2012



I read the story Father,
tears blurring the words
finding grace and love
and knowing it is true
that You really do
see me that way.

I've blown it again Father;
I'm fighting tears and shame
feeling it is true
for everyone else,
but not for me.
I am somehow not.

You gently lift my chin
collect the tears and
pour them into the bottle
etched with my name.
You look into my heart
with eyes that burn with love,
and somehow I know
it is true.