Monday, August 17, 2015

This Testing Place

This place that we pass through
Is fleeting as the day
This place where Truth and lies compete
This place of come-what-may
This place of birth-to-death-to-God
Of love and hatred’s grief
Of fecklessness where fool’s applaud
A hopeless unbelief
This place where so few seem to seek
Treasures, apart from Self
This place where every word we speak
Is written Somewhere Else
This place of grace, of slip and fall
Of get-up-try-again
This place where anyone can call
To God who understands
This place of dirt, hurt, toil and groan
Is grave as grave can be
For it is but a steppingstone
Into Eternity

© Janet Martin

 But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.


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Thank you for your visit to this porch. I'd love to hear if or how this post/poem touched you!