Saturday, November 17, 2018

But The Passing Through...

PAD Challenge 17: For today’s prompt, write a broken poem. 

Because we are prone to groaning 'whys'
where brokenness abounds
it is vital we fix our eyes
On the Healer of wounds
For He bore on our behalf
More than man understands
And wears love's sacred autograph
on out-stretched, nail-scarred hands
(for this is but the Passing Through
Before death's chilling seal
Transports us with that last gasp to 
all Heaven waits to heal)
...ah, who then can dare to afford
the everlasting cost
Of disregarding Christ the Lord
to be counted among the lost!


Then we of grin-groan-grit nuance
Of love’s laughter and tears
Of hope’s Immortal pursuance
While moments meld to years
‘Neath sky wide heath of dawn to dusk
Where seed of deed bears fruit
And scatters in its wake the husk
Of touch and taste’s pursuit
Where not one can undo the done
Or wipe spent seasons clean
Or force Belief or rain or sun
Or turn the fallow green
Then we of wonder, whim and wit
And ways common to man
Should entrust dust-formed grin-groan-grit
To Hope’s Incarnate Plan

…and not forget what seems so wrong
Or of small consequence
Or too impossible or long
Or without recompense
Is but part of The Passing Through
Before the Curtain Call
That will unveil Love’s Author who
Bore witness to it all
Who needs not to interrogate
(too late then to appeal)
As He makes known His own, the wait
Worth all one glimpse will heal
And banish from the mortal mind
Each agonizing ‘why’
Where hurt and hope is left behind
In the sweet by and by

© Janet Martin


Thank you for your visit to this porch. Any thoughts you would like to share?