The weight of everything we cannot change
May press against the levee of the heart
And though we yearn to shift or rearrange
The filament of its woven rampart
We cannot touch past’s immutable stage
Its frozen landscapes to obliterate
Nor crumple like an error-splattered page
The flawed, fragmented pictures we create
But look, upon the east from God’s embrace
He renders to earth’s offspring new-dawn grace
The imperfections of another day
Will soon unfold their mortal mystery
Its path of burnished evidence will splay
Fresh-footprint miles in frames of history
For we cannot thwart Time’s persistent breath
From night to day and back to night once more
Its astral clock will not succumb to death
Until the declaration of the Lord
As on the cusp of earth’s four-season dust
We spill the follies of our love and lust
…and thus, we bear its subtle aftermath
For what we sow is what we stoop to reap
Yet, grace aligns itself against the path
Where joy and sorrow tune the tears we weep
And mercy washes guilty stains away
The weight of everything we cannot change
Will not be held against us on that Day
For none redemption’s flood can rearrange
Or reinstate the debt that Love forgave
To break the curse that bound us to the grave
The bulwark of His promises abide
We are not doomed in spite of our dross
Look; listen to the words before He died
Sealing eternal pardon; from the cross
Where His blood poured in Passion’s agonies
As life ebbed from the limbs of perfect love
And “it is finished” rent the galaxies
Now hope fixes our gaze on courts above
Where Time can never shift or rearrange
The joy of everything we cannot change
© Janet Martin
I like that first line...exactly how I feel today, I'm sure the rest is good too I'll read later I hope...
ReplyDeletesorry about the sunrise scrape...:(
It's a great poem to ponder the week leading up to Easter. Grace is very powerful.
ReplyDeleteBy His grace alone we go!
ReplyDeleteoh, and the scrape was my own fault...i jumped into the first pair of foot-wear I could find; heels;-(
ReplyDeleteVery nice, and my favorite part is this:
ReplyDeleteAs on the cusp of earth’s four-season dust
We spill the follies of our love and lust
…and thus, we bear its subtle aftermath
For what we sow is what we stoop to reap
Yet, grace aligns itself against the path
Where joy and sorrow tune the tears we weep
And mercy washes guilty stains away
The weight of everything we cannot change
Will not be held against us on that Day
For none redemption’s flood can rearrange
Or reinstate the debt that Love forgave
To break the curse that bound us to the grave
Sue, thank-you for taking the time to read this, what turned out to be a rather lengthy poem! Thank-you.
ReplyDelete