Saturday, June 29, 2013

Of Sorrows, Scrimmages and Precious Peace





The silent sorrows of the heart
No ink of pen can dare to spell
Nor brush release its anguished art
Groaning beneath this dust-wrought shell

The panting prayer of pleading thought
No page or stage could bear to flaunt
Or scrawl in humble scripted jot
The hollow holding hidden want

The scrimmages of faith and fear
Rival where only God can see
It is enough; He bends His ear
Bestowing precious peace to me

© Janet Martin

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